Stones of Our Ancestors
by AvatarBuddha
Summary: Harry Potter responds more naturally to the Dursley's abuse and neglect. New encouraging role models help Harry as he follows his lust for knowledge in the face of power-hungry opposition. Cover image found on pottermore from Warner Bros. Studio Tour London.
1. Poem One

One-pure

One-half

One-new

Three minds search

seeking justice against

agents of power

Every stoned over-turned

Every book breached and stream stormed

Gasping for truth amongst drowning lies


	2. Chapter One: Fountain Pens and Promises

Disclaimer:

*I don't own a damn thing.*

Thanks for checking out my story! I hope to get into a groove of posting consistently, however I am likely going to be sporadic. Like my posting-habits, my writing may bring the story to some strange places, but I will try to bring us back to something like a plot.

Please enjoy, and I appreciate all feedback!

AvatarBuddha

Chapter One: Fountain Pens and Promises

 **BOOM!**

The front door to the small shack dropped down and thudded on the sandy, wooden floor. A man twice as wide as average ducked under the doorframe to enter. He had a bushy black beard and equally bushy black hair. He wore a large set of beige and brown robes, with hundreds of pockets sewn into them. Small black eyes searched the room, finally resting on a lump on the couch. The lump shook and jiggled, his lard-filled body anxious with an intruder in the shack. Vernon Dursley stomped down the staircase as the man took a few steps into the room. A long metal pipe rested in Vernon's meaty grasp. Vernon clicked the safety off. The moonlight flashed off the shotgun's lever. His son, Dudley, popped up from his place on the couch and backed away slowly. His wife Petunia followed closely behind him down the staircase. The two frightened parents made their way slowly to their son, Vernon trained the weapon at the large man.

"Harry Potter- well, you have gotten a little more than fat haven't yeh?" The man asked Dudley. Dudley, wide eyed and empty-headed, stared at the man. Vernon shouldered the weapon as his face reddened.

A boy with a mop of messy black hair stood behind the fireplace mantel. He choked on his own laughter, ending up on his knees. His knobby knees held up an even more knobby body. He was all elbows and ribs, dressed in worn pajamas. He had a thin face to match, with broken round glasses framing a gaunt set of stunning eyes. Tears rolled from emerald green, mildly glowing in the darkness. He looked up at the giant, taking in every detail of the man. Standing, he kicked aside the thin, blue blanket. The man noticed the small boy tucked away from the rest of the house's occupants "Oh blimey, you must be Harry, o' course."

Harry took a few steps out into the light. The man got a good look at Harry before glancing at Vernon. "I-I'm Harry Potter, how do you know my name? Who are you?"

The man began chuckling at Harry's first question.

"I am Rubeus Hagrid, but call me Hagrid," Hagrid flopped down on the couch, ignoring Vernon, who became increasingly more angry. "Now, of course, I have this-" Hagrid pulled a thick parchment envelope from his breast pocket. "A letter for Harry James Potter…" His voice trailed off as he read further down the page. He hadn't done so before, and now learned where Harry slept at night. He handed it to Harry, amid Vernon's purple face twisted with rage. "Harry Potter, yeh sir, are a Wizard." He paused and glared at Vernon. "A damn, fine Wizard if I have ever seen one."

"I'm a what?" Harry asked. The small rock-island shook at the rumble of thunder overhead. Lightning flashed and lit the room through the spaces in the walls. Hagrid pulled a birthday cake out of his pocket and handed it to Harry. The cake turned out to be only slightly squished, and made of rich, creamy chocolate. "These Muggles might try to tell you different, but you fit in just fine with our lot." Harry scooped cake with his fingers and put the tastiest treat he had ever eaten into his mouth. A grin of satisfaction was plastered to the child's face. His own cake on his Eleventh Birthday.

"Muggles?" Asked Harry, mouth filled with cake. Hagrid shook his head with a small grin on his face.

"Our name for non-magical folk. But, o'course, you'll be studying grander things than these muggles at Hogwarts. Ya know about Hogwarts don' ya?" Harry shook his head slowly, not knowing something tended to discomfort him. Hagrid shouted, "Lily and James Potter's Heir not knowing about Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry! I'll be taking him there! tell you what Dursley, in a different life we'd-" he caught himself, remembering the children in the room.

"You knew my parents? What were they like before the accident? Did you know them long? They went to Hogwarts? Is that where they died? What did-"

Harry was surprised that Vernon had taken so long to interrupt their moment.

"Like hell you will- you filthy beast! Don't believe a word he says, boy, he's a liar and a trespasser, and I'm calling the police!" Harry's Uncle Vernon shouted, his ugly mug turning red with protest. Obviously, the response rate for the London Police Department out in the middle of nowhere was quicker in Vernon's distorted brain than reality could provide. Petunia's head rested on a long neck, often poking over the shoulder of her whale of a husband. In this moment, she stood beside her husband, both had a hand on their son's shoulders. Harry glanced from the trio to Hagrid and back again. Petunia's bleached blonde hair was disillusioned by her black roots. Roots matching Harry's black hair. A recessive trait in their family. Petunia's mother and Lily sported rosy red locks.

"We promised ourselves that we would rid that brat of his dysfunction, and we've done our best no help to your lot and that funny fellow-" Petunia stopped speaking. Harry's shoulders and neck tensed and locked back as Petunia spoke.

"You knew?!" Harry shouted, his world exploding in his head. Harry's almond eyes raced back and forth between Hagrid and Vernon. Hagrid held a purple umbrella threateningly at Vernon, as if it could stand up to a twelve gauge rifle. Harry heard a low, deep wind whistle around his ears. Harry imagined the wind seeping into his mind. He imagined a cool, watery gel flowing under his skin. Harry stood with his eyes closed as his family and Hagrid watched. The couch in the middle of the room began to rattle. The chairs and table rocked together, and then slammed against the wooden wall. Harry's head dropped and looked at the floor, his eyes still closed. He brought his arms into his chest and began to shake. Harry's head snapped up and his eyes flew open. His eyes glowed unnaturally, pulsing and flashing as he glared at his uncle. Waves of anger rolled off his body, emitting from his lower back and traveling across his body.

Hagrid stared on, his arm falling and the umbrella aiming unconsciously at Dudley. The waves of magic flowing from Harry shocked Hagrid. To Hagrid, the only similar feeling was within the halls of Hogwarts. His umbrella began sparking at the tip, flicking small spurts of electricity at Dudley.

"Harry-" Hagrid fruitlessly began.

Harry could not hear him over the magic pulsing in his ears. Vernon raised the rifle and trained the muzzle at his nephew's chest. The wind returned around Harry and wrapped around his body, Harry felt his lungs squeeze together as the energy burst out. The wind lashed out and pulled the rifle from Vernon, twisting and shattering against the fireplace. An arch of magic swept up Vernon and threw him against the wall. Petunia rushed to his side, but a gush of magic pulled the window out of the sill. Rain entered through the hole in the wall, mixing with the magicked wind to drench the couple beneath a ripped curtain. Dudley watched in horror as magic terrorized his parents. He clenched the chocolate cake while tears poured down his face.

Harry's arms, now outstretched, were covered in goose bumps. The hair on his forearms stood on end. Short fingers squeezed into a fist, the cake floated up a foot into the air and smashed across Dudley's face. The light died from Harry's eyes, and he collapsed to the ground.

His mouth was dry. Like when Dudley forced sand into his mouth during a bout of 'Harry Hunting.' Dudley and his friends would chase Harry around the neighborhood and the nearby park until they tired. Occasionally, they would catch him when he was off his game. Harry quickly learned to avoid the sandbox at the park, otherwise he would eat the 'sand-wich' Dudley so creatively invented. He once told his teacher about 'Harry Hunting,' only for her to be transferred to a lower grade. Whenever Harry approached her, she would glare and Harry believed she even hissed at him once.

So he kept that game to himself.

He had kept his eyes shut since he awoke moments earlier. The last thing Harry could remember was Dudley with the cake, before he was swimming in darkness. His dreams were clouded with a heavy smoke, unlike any Harry had ever had. He peaked his eyes open. Bright, white light blinded him. He reached around for his glasses, finding them on the bedside table. The taped bridge sometimes scratched his nose and he couldn't quite see far away, but they were a better prescription than the last pair Petunia tossed his way. Blue wallpaper was enchanted with people riding broomsticks and tossing around balls to one another.

Otherwise, he was in the cleanest hospital room he had ever been in. He couldn't see a speck of dust, not even under the other bed beside his own. Matching brown blankets covered the beds, with white linen sheets underneath. Unlike other hospitals rooms he had been in, there were no machines or computers. A plastic box on the door held a chart that Harry assumed was his. He couldn't see anything but brick out his window. Small wedges of sunlight cast on the floor by his feet. He hadn't seen sunlight since the first morning the they arrived on the island.

Harry tried to swing his legs out of bed, only to find himself hardly able to sit up. A bracelet was wrapped around Harry's wrist.

 **Harry Potter, Patient #3289. St. Mungos Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Mind Magic Wing, Spell Damage Department, Floor Four.**

He sat in silence, alone with his racing thoughts. The people flying brooms slowed down, somehow recognizing the effect they were having on him. He chewed his lip while rereading his bracelet over and over. His olive skin was pale, he didn't know how long he had been in bed, but his body was weak. He remembered reading about muscle dystrophy in long-term patients, but that didn't answer his questions. He fell back asleep at some point, but his dreams were frightening. He was Vernon. The shotgun heavy in his hands, his arms barely able to aim at his nephew. Harry felt Vernon's fear, invisible whips grasped around Vernon's chest and knees. Sweeping him off his feet and sending him arse over tea kettle into the shack's wall. Harry flew into Petunia's body, running after her bewitched husband as her stomach flipped and fumbled.

"Harry."

Harry woke startled and sweaty. The sun had disappeared, but he had no moonlight to keep him company. Only a small, brown-haired woman. Dressed in similar robes as Hagrid, although her's was clean and pure white. She had a kind smile with thick red lips and light brown skin. She looked to be from somewhere in the Arabian Peninsula, Harry couldn't distinguish between them well enough to guess. Vernon didn't let his family interact with anyone not up to his standard.

"Hello," Harry said softly. She sat down in the chair beside his bed, she readied her clipboard on her lap. A long, feathered quill rested across the top. "You wouldn't have any water, would you?"

She pulled a short stick from her sleeve and tapped the air. A pitcher of water floated into the room with two glasses following in suit. They poured themselves before finding each one of their hands.

Harry sat in awe. How did magic get old to anyone? Harry did not want to find out. He drank eagerly, having enough strength to raise the glass to his lips. He set the glass on the table and returned his attention to the woman in front of him.

"That was amazing," Harry said. She smiled again. "Who are you?"

"I am Healer Hestia Jones, I have been instructed by Healer Gaius Greengrass to do your intake," Jones answered in a British accent. "What is your full name?"

"Harry James Potter."

She scribbled.

"Where are you?" Jones asked.

Harry paused and itched his bracelet. "St. Mungos Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Mind Magic Wing, Spell Damage Department, Floor Four."

She looked up from her clipboard and met Harry's eyes. He shrugged passively, while she returned to her quill and scratched down a few words.

"How did you come to need our care?" Jones delicately asked. Harry looked down, flashes of lighting crossed his mind, chocolate cake, an umbrella. "Harry…" He looked into her dark brown eyes.

"I killed my uncle," Harry answered flatly. Jones' brown eyes held steady as she shook her head. "I scared my aunt, and hit my cousin." Scribble. "I remember being in the shack with Hagrid-"

Her chin turned sharply, keeping her eyes locked with Harry's.

"Hagrid?" Harry nodded. "When did you talk with Hagrid?"

He chewed his lip. "Just before I lost control. He was delivering my Hogwart's letter, and my birthday cake." His stomach growled, reminiscing the heavenly icing. "He didn't bring me here?"

She shook her head slowly. "I will be right back with you, Harry, I need to ask Healer Greengrass for his advice." He watched quietly as she left the room, only to return five minutes later with a sharply dressed man in tow. He had brown, well-kept hair. He wore a similar robe as Jones, only his had green trimmings at the hem and ends of his sleeves. His skin was pearly white and his smile calmed Harry. "Harry, this is Healer Gaius Greengrass, Director of Mind Magic Research and Recovery."

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Potter," His low, soft voice still managed to rumble in Harry's ear. He nodded at Harry. "We need you to tell us what you remember about what happened on your birthday."

Harry spent the next fifteen minutes going over every detail. From meeting Hagrid to his outburst, leaving no detail out. The two Healers sat together in silence when Harry finished his account. "May I ask," Harry began, Jones nodded. "How did I end up here?"

Healer Greengrass sat up in his chair. "The Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement fire-called and warned that the Runestones within the Department of Mysteries had lit up. The Unspeakables believed a number of attacks occurred near Magical Britain's outer, and more ancient, Wardstones. We readied the Spell Damage unit only for Director Bones to apparate directly into the lobby with you floating beside her. Two of her Aurors had your family members brought in-" Harry stared dumbly. "Our top police officer warned us and then showed up with you and your family."

This is not what Harry wanted to have happened. Vernon smashing in the wall. Scaring Dudley. At least he wasn't dead. He should have realized they knew when wizards used magic, how couldn't they? He had to have been in deep trouble with- what did Healer Greengrass call it? The Department of Magical Law Enforcement… Harry didn't go five minutes of knowing he was a wizard before getting into trouble. Vernon was right, he was a criminal. He was seven again, being reminded that his father was drunk driving when he killed himself and Harry's mother in a car crash. Vernon had slapped Harry for putting one too many ice cubes in his gin and tonic.

"Mr. Potter…" Healer Greengrass was staring at him. "Where did you go, son?"

Harry didn't have an answer for him.

"You were reliving that night, weren't you Harry?" Healer Greengrass asked. Harry nodded without thinking, noticing Healer Greengrass called him Harry for the first time. "I'm not upset with you Harry, no one is. You may not believe us," He said, noticing Harry's confusion. "Director Bones brought you here because she was worried about your safety, not because you are in trouble." Healer Greengrass watched Harry's face for any sort of hint.

The two Healers sat back and looked to one another.

"Son, you said a man named Hagrid was there that night?" Healer Greengrass continued at his nod. "When the DMLE got there, the only people on the island were the four of you. You had a Hogwart's letter tucked into your waistband."

"Do you not believe me?" Harry asked sharply. Betrayal thick in his voice. A look of surprise flashed across . "We could fingerprint the envelope-"

"Harry, I believe you. There is no way you would know that name unless you met Rubeus Hagrid. We know him well, both of us attended Hogwarts too," Healer Jones supplied. "We are simply confused as to why Hagrid was delivering your letter to you. Normally, Professor McGonagall delivers muggle-raised students their letters," she paused. "At least, she delivered mine."

Harry was surprised again. "You were- you're muggle-raised?" He asked loudly, putting a wide grin on her face. "Is it always like this?"

She laughed once. "No Harry, you are a special case." Harry blushed, special wasn't something he enjoyed being. Dudley was special according to Petunia. That category was not one he wanted to be apart of. "Normally, we would need a legal guardian's permission to perform the next part of the intake. However, under these circumstances and with the approval of the DMLE Head, we only need your consent…" Healer Jones began vaguely. "Healer Greengrass is a Master Legilimens which means he can use magic to find that memory and experience what happened-"

"No," Harry answered, studying the bed sheet he squeezed between his thumb and pointer finger. The two Healers remained silent. "I don't trust you that much."

"That's fair, Harry…" Healer Greengrass admitted. "Just so you are aware, I am not allowed to tell anyone what I see without your permission. I cannot even write down what I-"

"But if you can read my mind, someone can read your mind and see what you saw in my head, I don't want that to happen."

Healer Greengrass smiled. "Very wise, Harry. However, in order to achieve mastery in Legilimency, one must first master Occlumency and if you can guess what that means…"

"You can stop people from reading your mind?" Harry asked. His curiosity getting the better of him.

"Ideally, yes. There are some who can simply overpower me with a magical barrage… but those with that sort of power will be able to find it in your mind much easier than mine." That information slightly frightened Harry. "We can only try to become better wizards, Harry." When he smiled, the corners of his eyes squeezed shut and his cheeks dimpled more deeply than Harry thought possible. "If you sign and agree, we can see what happened and we can use this in court." The thought had never struck Harry that the Wizards would have court. He reasoned they must also have a prison, and if so, he did not want to find out what the inside looked like.

"But I'm guilty, why would I provide evidence that would send me to prison?" Harry asked. The candles began flickering. Healer Jones stood and breathed deeply, the lights regained their shine and she returned to her seat. Harry couldn't help but give her a questioning look. "What was that?"

"I apologize Harry. I must admit, it has been a few years since I last lost control of my magic…" Admitting her fault surprised Healer Greengrass. "You are not going to spend any time in prison, Harry. I promise you that. You have done nothing wrong." She paused and bit her lip, before glancing at her boss. He gave her a nod. "When we did our first series of diagnostic charms, we found you in a sort of magical shock. You were malnourished, horribly underweight and under-height for your age range. Your magic had been keeping you alive for at least three years." The room went silent for a moment as Harry took that in. "Your collar bone, left radius, and a literal handful of bones in your left hand had healed with your magic. They were set improperly. Essentially, they were being held together by your magic. Harry, you will never live with the Dursleys again… so long as I breathe, you will be free from their abuse." Harry had never had anyone say something so kind to him before. He never before had felt the coarse, rough honesty in her voice. Pity deep in her eyes, but Harry did not feel as ashamed as he thought he might feel.

"I don't know," Harry mumbled, his eyes locked on his whitening knuckles. He rubbed his hands together as he tried to think of something to respond. The two healers shared a brief look noticed by Harry. "It-I'm not-It's not as bad as your spells- is there any chance you might have made a mistake with the diagnostic?" Harry looked up hopefully. Healer Jones' eyebrows were perked and a sad smile played across her lips.

"No Harry, we can show you our records if you would like to see our evidence-" Harry shook his head no once more. "Harry, we understand this is something that may seem impossible to talk about, and you are under no obligation to talk about what happened. You might be afraid of what they might do or say about you, but if we have your memories of what happened, we could-"

Harry could feel the magic rising in him again, like a long, low whistle across fields of rich, green ferns. Tall, droopy Black-Eyed Susans sprouted here and there in his mind. Chamomile and Sage bushes dotted the field as Harry felt himself fly in the air of his mind. The wind tickled his finger tips and chest. He opened his eyes for the first time in a few minutes to an overly curious Healer Greengrass peering over his nose at Harry.

"Sorry, was I out for awhile?"

"Only a few moments, Harry," Healer Greengrass was at the edge of his seat. His chin high in the air as he analyzed Harry. "What did you see? Where were you?"

Harry slightly smiled as he felt the warmth of the imaginary sun beating down on the grassy field. "I saw skinny purple flowers. Big, yellow sunflowers next to short green shrubs- I think ferns, maybe? And then another type of flower, I can't remember what they're called… Aun- Petunia has them. White petals with a yellow center-"

"Chamomile?" Harry, eyes closed with a wide smile on his face, nodded to Healer Jones. "Ferns, Sunflower, and what was the first one? Skinny and purple? Did she have those ones in her garden?" Harry was surprised at their interest in his imagination. He had never had such vivid images in his mind before, but he would later swear he could feel the sun warming his skin. Had either of the Healers felt him at that point, they would have agreed.

"Sage," Harry finally answered. In his mind's eye, he bent down and closely examined the purple flowers sitting on soft, thick leaves. The flower's color flashed from purple to blue, to pink, to white, before returning to a deep, nearly maroon-ish purple. Harry opened his eyes again to a smiling Healer Greengrass, Healer Jones sat with her mouth in a perfect 'O.' "You know, flies will take advantage of the opening…" Her mouth snapped shut, before chuckling along with the other two. "What, is it weird that I'm seeing this?"

Healer Greengrass bobbed his head from left to right while shrugging his shoulders. "I would not describe anything about you as 'weird,' Harry… Uncommon, maybe. Harry, without any further investigation, I believe that you are entering the very beginning of what some Occlumens will call a natural defense system. That may be a strange concept, at first… a field of flowers being a defensive response to your recent trauma. By the confusion I see on your face, this is the first time you have imagined this particular field before. Have you had any other dreams that may resemble this? Perhaps a daydream in class, or before bed as you drift to sleep?"

Harry shook his head. Before his dream last night, the only reoccurring dream he had ever had involved a blinding burst of green light and horrific screaming. He told the Healers as much. They spoke together quietly, Harry being assured he was not being kept out of the loop, but merely because they did not want to rush his memories and trigger his natural magical defenses.

Without discussing Harry's dream, Healer Greengrass bid Harry a goodnight and wished him peaceful dreams. Healer Jones remained sitting next to Harry for a few moments, her hand grasping Harry's firmly, yet not crushingly so. She too stood, instructed Harry to drink a thick, purple potion, which Harry found interesting in itself, before going to bed.

"Healer Jones, did I say something to upset you? I didn't think you would be upset to hear what I dream about-"

"We are not upset with you Harry," she repeated kindly. Her warm eyes returning, Harry thought he saw tears in her eye but she turned away and walked to the door. "Get some rest Harry, we'll be continuing in the morning."

The purple potion tasted like a Dudley Sandwich but put him to sleep in two minutes flat. He once again found himself swimming through smoke throughout his dreams. He tried finding his way out, only to forget his goal moments later, enjoying the bubbles of odorless, black, and gray smoke bursting around him.

 ** _BANG!_**

He looked around in the smoke, but could not even see his own hand reaching outward.

 ** _BANG!_**

He began swimming harder this time, trying to reach a surface that he only imagined existed. Then he was out, the black smoke splashing against his skin like water as he floated up into the air. The banging was still out of sight, but became more repetitious the higher Harry floated. Harry peaked his eye open. He was safe and back in his room at St. Mungos. The rising sun cast low light over his face, the banging was on the door from the hallway. **_BANG!_** He heard again, this time accompanied with muffled shouts of protest. Harry did nothing but lay still. Not only did he not have the energy to get out of bed, but he also did not have the energy to care about the banging. Or the potential intruder. All he could think about was the slight ache in his growling stomach.

After a few moments, the noises subsided. A polite knock rapped on the door before cracking open wide enough for Healer Greengrass to poke his head in. He looked like he hadn't slept a minute all night. He managed to smile at Harry, noticing he was awake and most likely up for the day.

"Sleep well, Harry?" Healer Greengrass asked, slipping inside. He flicked his wand at the door a couple times, swishing in odd and seemingly random directions as the tip of his wand gently glowed white. The door shimmered, Healer Greengrass put a nearly invisible barrier on the door. "Drought of the Sleepless Night, created in the year seventeen oh three by a Potion Mistress on the horn of Africa in Mogadishu. The Sultan at the time could not for the life of him find a remedy for his night terrors, until one of his concubines brought him a potion. Now, Africa has its magic, but their muggles are not as open to this as some of the folk in Asia or even bits of The States. The Sultan found her potion lab, ordered her to create enough Drought to last him his entire life. When she was finished, he poured boiling water on her from her cauldron." He waited to see Harry's reaction before continuing. "What is the moral of the story, Harry?"

Harry paused, not anticipating a philosophical question at the end of what seemed to be a random bit of knowledge.

"Not everyone is worth helping?" Harry offered. Healer Greengrass nodded, accepting the answer. "Can I ask why you told me that?"

"Well, son, I have the Minister of Magic, the Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and way too many bureaucrats on my floor waiting to see you. I had to keep one witch out, a true shrew of a woman named Umbridge, because she kept trying to open the door with magic. I told you that story, because the Minister is the Sultan, and Director Bones is the Potion Mistress. Do what you will with my opinion. But remember this: most wizards have magical power, and some wizards love their political power more than their magical. Question those people." Without another word, he slashed his wand at the door. The door swung open as he dispelled his original defenses. "Minister Fudge, this is Harry Potter. Harry, this is Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic for Wizarding Britain."

A shorter fellow made his way in. He wore fine robes of leather and blue silk. A navy blue tie was around his neck. Fudge did his name honor, his round belly hidden behind his thick outer robes, but not as well as he hoped. A House Crest rested on the breast of his outer robe. A large, red M at the forefront, with a smaller green S and a blue F in opposite corners of the shield. A tiny green snake slithered around and parked itself across from the S, while a similar sized Crown sat opposite the F.

"Ah, where are my manners!" Minister Fudge excused himself, stomping his boots over to Harry's bedside and jutting his hand into Harry's personal space. "A true honor to have the pleasure to meet the Boy-Who-Lived!" Harry took the man's hand, giving a questioning look at Healer Greengrass. He slipped to Harry's other side quickly. "Surely, you must have been told-" Minister Fudge stopped himself, realizing Harry did not know himself by that title. Minister Fudge met eyes with his companion. The door closed behind her, Healer Jones corralling the rest of the undersecretaries away from the door.

She was taller than Fudge by a few inches, but her jaw was much heavier and more square. Hers was not a walk, but a march. She wore a similar suit as Fudge, she wore a heavier, yellow cloak. The Shield holding the cloak around her shoulders had a large red 'M' on it as well. Her's, however, had an 'H' in the lower left corner and a 'B' in the upper right. A small bear sat opposite the 'B,' and a Badger opposite the 'H.' Harry was intimidated, inspired, and self-conscious simultaneously, and he wasn't sure how to feel about that. The Minister did not carry himself like the Director did. She had hard, blue eyes that picked apart the entire room as she entered, joining the Minister beside Harry's bed. A golden monocle sat on her right eye. Harry believed only magic could keep that stuck to her face without superglue. Her auburn hair pulled into a neat ponytail, hanging down the middle of her back.

"Director Bones, meet Harry Potter. Harry, this is Director Amelia Bones. She was the person I mentioned yesterday-" Healer Greengrass said as Harry looked up at his savior. He remembered her that night. He was lying on the ground, he felt Hagrid stuff the envelope in his waistband muttering something about a stupid boar? No, a dumb door? He couldn't quite make out what Hagrid had said, but it wasn't long before he remembered hearing the loudest **_crack_** he had ever heard. Flashes of her running to his side overtook his physical senses. He remembered her feeling around his body, she noticed he flinched when she touched his collarbone and left arm. Had he broken his arm that recently? He couldn't quite recall how that had happened, only something about the trip to the zoo. Even that was hazy to Harry.

"Harry, are you okay?" Healer Greengrass' voice trailed into Harry's mind. All he could see was Director Bones' worried face as she pulled her wand out. He remembered her dropping her wand and gasping, she had fallen to her knee. "Harry, where are you?"

"I'm being saved by Director Bones," Harry answered, his voice airy and not his own. He had jumped up slightly and touched his collar bone. "You said… 'Lily would kill you.'" Harry opened his eyes. Minister Fudge leaned against the wall, his shoulder supporting his body. One hand covered his mouth while the other cupped his elbow. Healer Greengrass sat beside him to his right, while Director Bones sat on the end of his bed. "Director, did you know my mother?"

She nodded, tears brimming uncharacteristically at the ridge of her eyes.

"She wouldn't kill you, Madam," Harry said politely. Director Bones choked before hiding her face behind a hankie. "I'm sorry if I said something to hurt your feelings-" she coughed, blew her nose, and focused her facial features into the stone mask she nearly had perfected. "Wow, you're pretty good at that."

She let the mask slip and showed him a small smirk.

"I will tell you more about her if you tell me what you remember from that night," Director Bones offered. She cut to the chase quickly, Harry appreciated that about her, she didn't beat about the bush like Healer Greengrass. Harry wanted to know as much as he could about his mother, and he knew what she was after.

"Healer Greengrass said you wanted to read my mind to find out what I did to Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia."

Minister Fudge and Director Bones shared a look together before glancing at Healer Greengrass. Who shrugged slightly, out of Harry's view.

"Well, Harry…" She began softly. "Not only because we want to know that… but we also need to see what happened when you lived with them." She could tell the moment it clicked in his head. "You know you are not in any trouble, correct?"

Harry nodded. He could not believe that he was getting away with nearly killing his family members, but they wanted to see what living with the Dursleys was like. Of course, Harry would rather not go back over his life with them. If this would somehow help the Potion Mistress against the Sultan, who Harry thought did not seem like a bad bloke on first impressions, he would let them.

"We need you to sign a few forms giving Healer Greengrass permission to use Legilimency on you. Without a magical or legal guardian to sign, Minister Fudge and I have agreed it is in your best interest to become a Ward," Director Bones explained. At some point, she had rested her hand on Harry's foot and kept it there. Somewhere in Harry, he was comfortable with her more than even Healer Greengrass. Saving him from the island and prison time did that for him. "I am guessing you know what a Ward of the State is, correct?"

Harry nodded.

"This is similar," Minister Fudge supplied. "For magical folk, we do not have Wards of the Ministry. In either case, you would technically be under the guardianship of the Queen (if you were muggle) or Minister. Magical Wards are just that, you become a Ward of Magic. You will be given the opportunity to select a magical guardian, who takes a magical oath to protect and raise you. This title is given to children with no direct relatives, or in your case, missing wills from both the father and the mother. The Ministry recognizes this contract in equal protection under wizard law as parental rights. House Rights and Lordships follow in suit, but don't worry yourself with that right yet. You have many years before you are able to claim Head of House Potter."

Harry was speechless. He would get to choose his guardian? The thought of his parents' wills stayed with him as Minister Fudge continued.

"You will be able to choose your guardian once you become more familiar with some of your parents friends, some candidates that will likely throw their House into the ring to raise you, and the various other solicitors- who offer nothing but smoke and mirrors, mind you. Until you feel comfortable making that decision, Director Bones has agreed to act as your temporary-guardian, which requires a less serious contract that I have had my undersecretaries draw up for us today. Mr. Potter, may I call you Harry?" Harry nodded. "You are under no obligation to do any of this, and we could have a Wizengamot hearing to decide the fate of not only your livelihood, but the fate of House Potter and your political well-being." And Harry then realized what Healer Greengrass meant in his analogy. Harry could see the interworking of the Minister's mind; why would he help a poor, strange child if it did not directly benefit him.

"So, I could either choose my magical guardian, or let a bunch of people I don't know decide for me?" Harry asked. Minister Fudge, smiling politely at Harry's blunt response, nodded. "Where do I sign?"

Minister Fudge pulled out a series of official Ministry Documents from a magically sealed envelope. He spent five minutes organizing them in the proper order, specifically finding each place Director Bones and Harry would need to sign and marking it like the proper office employee he was.

Harry sat silently as Healer Greengrass went over his full diagnostic report with Director Bones. Apparently, a week had gone by until Harry first woke, they failed to mention that to Harry when they did his intake. His magical core was nearly depleted, the bonds around his bones being the last of his reservoirs. The past week had raised his core to ten percent of its normal level, although they did not specify how they found this data. Other than they used spells, that is. But that was a vague answer to Harry, although they were removing him from the Dursleys, so he did not quite care.

"Harry, this may create some difficulties when you are at school," Director Bones quietly admitted, while the Minister worked and Healer Greengrass saw to his staff and patients. "I have made my fair share of enemies and some of these children may know of that. I want you to know that I am very, truly sorry for not checking in on you earlier. Your mother would- you know, I'm not sure what your mother would do. She was eccentric and erratic, an interesting combination. I will tell you all I know about your mother once you settle in with me, I do not want to overwhelm you with those emotions when you are building your core's strength." She looked over Harry with her blue eyes, they softened as Harry met her eyes. She recognized Lily's eyes the second she saw him, but couldn't bring herself to tell him. "Call me Amelia."

"Call me Harry," Harry retorted smartly. She pulled her lips into a tight grin, and Harry wondered what she was getting herself into. There had to have been a reason they took interest in Harry, then Harry put it together. The Minister called him 'The-Boy-Who-Lived,' from what? Did the green light happen in the car crash? Harry thought to ask Amelia when the timing was appropriate.

They used long, fountain pens to sign the papers. "You will learn how to use quills in school, they help students focus on your handwriting. For Ministry documents, ink blots were a nuisance until these nifty devices were created. Only a gallon a piece, a steal!" Minister Fudge informed. Harry nodded respectfully as he weakly gripped the pen. He signed his name in sharp, short, neatly-connected cursive letters.

When both finished, the contracts glowed silver. The light floated from the two stacks of parchments and entered Amelia on one end and Harry on the other. A perfectly-sized, silver band appeared on Harry's left thumb. Inspecting the ring, Harry found a small shield with a B inscribed in it. Behind the B, a bear laid lazily in the corner. He poked his head up and appeared to look back at Harry. Amelia watched for his reaction, he looked up at her, amused.

"This is brilliant!" Harry laughed, the bear heard him and stood on his hind legs, waving his paws aggressively- well, it would be aggressive if he wasn't two centimeters long. "I don't know how to thank you-"

"Promise me something," she said automatically. Harry noticed Healer Greengrass and Minister Fudge leaned in with more interest. "You will do your best at Hogwarts, in every class- even History of Magic. Promise me, Harry Potter."

"I promise, Amelia Bones," he smirked as she huffed slightly. He was more like James than she was ready to admit. "When will I be able to do the _Legil-mens_ thing?"

"Do you mean, 'when will you be able to perform the spell?' or 'When will Healer Greengrass perform the spell on me?'" Amelia asked, Harry turned his head slightly at her clarification in question form. He wasn't used to that.

"When will Healer Greengrass perform the spell on me?" Harry repeated. Healer Greengrass had a smug grin on his face watching the two interact. "Sir?"

"Ah, well your magical core is still rebuilding itself. So ideally, with content this emotionally taxing on the recipient and the ambiguity of how often the altercations occurred… I would not feel comfortable performing the spell with less than seventy percent of his core rebuilt." He paused, then nodded to himself. "However, I did notice earlier than he may be slipping into the earlier constructions of an Occlumency shield. This is a common response to trauma, however without further instruction he may trap himself in-"

"What?" Harry blurted out, staring at Healer Greengrass. "I could stay trapped in the field?" Healer Greengrass blushed slightly, forgetting Harry's age.

"Ah, truthfully I am not sure. I have seen some cases that have left the patients in a strange mid-state of mind, so to speak. Their motor functions operate as well as anyone else, but their minds remain in their core level shield. At this level, the proximity to magical influxes and channels distorts reality almost like the Draught of Sleepless Nights does. However, for each individual, well, essentially, their core level is as unique as the patient themselves. I am sorry, Harry, I honestly planned to tell you when you were stronger. It is important we do not rush the healing process anymore than we already have," Healer Greengrass said quickly, he looked at a pocket watch he pulled from his pants. "In fact, Harry best rest. Brunch will be served soon, Harry."

Minister Fudge grasped Harry's hand, "Thank you, Harry. When you are strong enough, we will have enough evidence to put away-ahem-your relatives away for good. Until then, I think a cushioned room at the end of the hall will do them momentary justice." Minister Fudge nodded to Amelia, then to Healer Greengrass as he exited the room.

"Can I bring you something to read or would you-" Harry nodded vigorously. Amelia's lips turned up into a wide smile.

"Something to catch me up on the whole being a wizard… thing." He gave an uncomfortable grin and she couldn't help but laugh. She squeezed his foot before standing up and fixing her robes.

"Get some rest, I'll stop by after work," She started toward the door in a march, like one of her criminals was sitting out in the hallway.

"Amelia," she stopped at Harry's calm voice. "Thank you."

She turned and met his eyes. "No, Harry, thank you."

Author's note:

If you've read until here, thank you again for checking out my work. I like writing poetry so I'll end up sprinkling a fair bit of those throughout the story. Get ready for some MC Sorting Hat (totally joking, but what if I wrote a one-shot where the Sorting Hat was actually Tupac in hiding?)

I hope to have my next chapter up in a week!

Until then, peace!

AB


	3. Chapter Two: Don't Shoot the Messenger

A/n: I apologize for the wait. Thank you all for following along. I plan on being more consistent with this story and I have some funky ideas I want to throw at you lot. I currently work about 30 hours at my town's middle school doing in school suspension and detention supervision. This is on top of being a full time student at college. I am writing some original pieces as well, so I use fanfiction as an escape from all of that stuff. This is purely for fun, and I have no intention on making money from this. If you have comments, questions, and/or concerns, please leave a comment. If I don't address your comment in a note or in the actual story, it might be because I forgot to reply or I'm setting up something I don't want to reveal too soon.

Any-who, please enjoy!

AB

Chapter Two: Don't Shoot the Messenger

"Hogwarts: A History, by Bathilda Bagshot, and others," Harry read aloud, a wide grin plastered on his face. His eyes sparkled with glee. Healers Greengrass and Jones let Harry sleep most of the day, having only woke him for lunch and tea midway through the afternoon. Amelia returned three minutes past five o'clock, her briefcase in hand. "May I ask, who is this person? Why are they an authority on the subject?" Amelia briefly smirked, before resuming her passive look.

"Bathilda Bagshot was a renowned reporter for the Daily Prophet in her younger years. She studied her Mastery of Magical History with none other than Minister Fudge. Well, back when he was in the business of Mastership. The processes of Mastership and Apprenticeship are opportunities outside of Hogwarts. You will learn more about those in your sixth and seventh year courses. Anyway, Bagshot has gotten a bit batty these days, don't repeat that, kid. She knows her history though."

Harry opened the book and began to read. His bright, glossy eyes quickly crossed from left to right. He tore through the words as if they were about to disappear from the page. Amelia couldn't help but stare as he worked through the paragraphs. His mouth was slightly ajar at the new, mind-blowing information he learned. Every so often, he turned the page and it was as though he had discovered a new planet by the look in his eye. Amelia was afraid he would become just like Bathilda, if he wasn't introduced to any of the other magic, that was.

She sat beside his bed, setting her paperwork on the nightstand. She fingered her Department Head issued fountain pen. The inscribed runes along the length of the wood were etched in ways that Amelia had no expertise. She knew enough to function, and did not press the engineers any more. One of the runes allowed only Amelia to hold it without receiving a burned hand. The runes also keyed a certain pattern that sent a coded message to the Department of Mysteries, notifying when a Magical Contract was signed. Harry used a similar one when signing his magical guardian papers.

Harry and Amelia repeated this pattern every other day for the following week. She would visit in the morning with a new book. By the time she returned in the afternoon, Harry would have it read cover to cover. They would then discuss, in great length and depth, the various issues Harry found in the texts, as well as what he thought was interesting. Some days, the healers would not allow him to read. Stating very clearly that too much mental exercise would decrease his core's strength. He begrudgingly obliged.

Earlier, she had brought Magical Theory by Aldabert Waffling, expecting a little more of a challenge for Harry. He breezed through Hogwarts: A History and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander. He eagerly asked her to help him figure out how to bond with a phoenix or dragon, only to be met with incredulity. He backtracked when he realized, or rather, reread how dangerous dragons actually were.

"So you're telling me, God is real?" Harry asked, finishing the last page of his new book. Amelia rubbed her temples after removing her monocle. Harry couldn't help but crack a grin. He knew his question was loaded, but her reaction was worth it to him.

"By another name. Magic has revealed itself to some muggles with a tendency for Divination. Their interpretations may have led some muggles to believe in a sort of higher power-"

"Some? Seriously? The majority of muggles worship some sort of God figure- Blimey, I still kind of do but I'm seriously questioning-" Amelia took her turn in interrupting Harry.

"You may believe whatever you wish, Harry. Some of the greatest wizards believe that God is Magic. Some believe that Magic is what we call our connection to God. I am not quite so sure. I would like you to read more philosophy and psychology as we study over the summer. Muggle studies are useful in our world. Not everyone agrees with that, but those are the most vulnerable to our economic and psychological leverages. However, we walk a tricky path. Many of our people do not listen to reason and find logic the more illusive of things to understand. Some of the most powerful magical folks ignore their logic, Harry. Please watch for these people." She paused, and gathered herself. "Sorry, please continue with your questions."

Harry took a moment before returning to his questioning mode. "This Magical theory book is complex stuff for wizards then."

"Just as some muggle classes come more easily and some not so, our people have a variety of strengths and weaknesses," Amelia answered. Harry slowly nodded, watching her watch him. "Do you find these topics intriguing?" He nodded vigorously. She could only chuckle. "That was a silly question, I apologize. However, many a wizard find these topics… rather unnecessary. Or, perhaps, difficult to dissect. You currently have a limited awareness of what people think on this matter, that is nothing to be ashamed of. I have a difficult time with herbololgy, for example. I nearly failed my Auror exam because I told my examiner that the best way to handle a mandrake was with a well-placed blasting curse- ah, that joke would be better if you knew what a Mandrake was. Or, what a Mandrake sounded like."

Harry, fidgeting with his bedsheets, glanced up at Amelia.

"I feel very inadequate, Amelia. I feel like the floor is covered in jelly and my bearings cannot find north," Amelia took his hand in hers. "I don't know- I feel compelled to run out to any muggle and scream the truth to them-"

Amelia let go of his hand and laughed a deep belly laugh, rather uncharacteristically.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Two things, first and less importantly… they would probably think you were bonkers. Trying to explain physics to most wizards is like explaining magic to muggles. Their eyes would glaze over and they would deny everything you tried to explain. In the event that you do that, or try to show magic to muggles, they would be convinced that they were hallucinating and you would be sorely disappointed," Amelia explained.

Harry nodded, taking in her wisdom. She retook his hand and sadly smiled.

"And number two?" Harry asked.

"Number two, now that you have told me, is that I would be forced to testify against you and put you away in our prison for revealing our secret," Amelia said in complete seriousness. Her calculating blue eyes watched over his face, wondering whether or not he was taking her at her word.

He could only nod once, a number of somber thoughts running through his mind.

"It's that important?" Was all he could muster.

She barked out a laugh.

"You didn't know about it before us meeting, did you?" She asked.

His face twisted slightly.

"I didn't know about much before meeting you lot, truth be told. I went to school and all, but I wasn't supposed to do better than Dudley. And Dudley did his best to fail every test. Hard to care about learning when your teachers think you are dumber than-" Harry caught himself, glancing away toward the wall of Quidditch. A few of the players lazily tossed a bigger ball to one another, rolling and laughing as they sometimes missed. Harry lost himself as another player zoomed from the doorway into the other two players, inciting a race around the edge of the wall, dodging the window sill and doorframe, only to continue doing laps.

Harry's mind wandered into his field. The flowers opened and bloomed as he passed by. Their centers followed him as he stepped his way around the Fern bushes and the Camomile flowers.

"Harry," Amelia's voice brought Harry's focus out of his mind. He kept his eyes tightly shut. "Are you okay? Do you need one of the Healers?" He shook his head no. Did she think he was crazy? Who would try to be stupid just because? What was she thinking, did she- "Will you open your eyes for me?"

Harry peaked his eyes open.

"Dumber than Dudley, Harry?" Amelia asked. Harry nodded once. "You may feel that way, however I do not believe you are dumb. You are quite honestly one of the most intelligent eleven year olds I have come across. I am not being hyperbolic in any sense of the word.."

A deep, cherry-red blush attacked Harry's face via his neck. He wasn't quite used to compliments, and one to that extreme didn't sit in his stomach so well.

"Thank you," He gulped out, because that's what he knew he was supposed to say. Amelia could feel the disconnect from his words and how they sounded. "Ah, so I will not tell any nonmagical-"

"Muggle," Amelia softly corrected. He gave a nod.

"I will not tell any muggles, I promise. I like magic too much to risk that," Harry gave an awkward laugh. The truth in his voice reminded Amelia to teach him how to lie a little more effectively.

A sharp knock on the door interrupted their conversation. After a few seconds, the door creaked open and Healer Greengrass poked his head in.

"I hope I am not disturbing," He waited for their approval to fully enter. Healer Jones followed in, a wide smile broke on her face as she saw Harry. Then, as if sensing the previous conversation, her smile slightly faltered. Amelia noticed her eyes told more than she might have guessed. "Well, Harry, I must say… not many come in this room in your condition and are ready to leave in two weeks. You could almost say it was… magical."

He had an uncharacteristic glee in his eye. Amelia and Harry shared a look before Harry broke out laughing.

"Harry, that wasn't that funny. You don't have to patronize him," Amelia smirked as she spoke. Healer Greengrass, in a child-like mood today, made a face at her. She turned her head with a smile hinting her surprise. "Healer Greengrass, you are sure he is ready for release?"

"I feel stronger but sometimes I slip into my field and I am not sure how I can strengthen that," Harry admitted. Healer Greengrass slightly nodded at Amelia. Harry wondered what was going on in his head. Legilmens, he thought, would help him out a bit in this situation.

"We have you on a nutrient and potion regimen that should restore your hormones and magical levels to the appropriate range. Or at least getting your magic to not be keeping you from complete malnutrition," Healer Greengrass answered. "You are also building the base structure to an Occlumency defense. This process can be… somewhat enlightening. Trust yourself Harry. This is something I believe you can do. Your core has repleted to forty percent, which is an acceptable level for discharge. We will do a complete Legilimens analysis when your core returns to at least seventy percent. That means, before you head to Hogwarts, we must do a check-up. Amelia is on board if you wish to leave St. Mungos." He looked over Harry's paperwork as he thought." Your core has an unusual nature. It is elusive, almost. Your magical core is strong. I advise you to moderate your learning. Be mindful of the content you engage. If you have questions about healing magic, or any research, my window is always open. I'm sorry. I mean, send me an owl with your notes and questions. Wizard colloquials and all."

"I appreciate that greatly, sir. Thank you for your help, I don't really know what to say besides-" Harry began, before Healer Greengrass interrupted him.

"You're welcome, Harry. Just do us one favor, yeah?" Harry's eyes narrow slightly and she continued. "Take your studies seriously. You have potential, kid. Also," he lazily flicked his wand toward the doorway. A second later, a book elegantly floated in. "Give this a read. _Occlumency, A Beginner's Guide._ " The book landed in Harry's lap gently. Harry didn't know how to respond to his generosity.

"I- ah, thank you again, Healer Greengrass. I would like to leave," Harry admitted. "I won't miss any opportunities to learn magic. Amelia, do you have an apartment or a house? Any pets? I like cats, and dogs of course, snakes are fun too. Do you think they are somewhat, I'm not sure, sassy maybe? They definitely have a different attitude."

Amelia slightly smiled again. "I live at Bones Manor, Harry. I have a number of pets. I will introduce you them tomorrow. Thank you, Healers, for your help. He has made a remarkable recovery, to be sure. Do I need to restrict his diet or supplement it other than with the potions?"

"A regular diet is acceptable with the potion. Keep him away from sugar as much as possible. Other than that… of course, get him renewed on his Dragon Pox vaccine when he turns fifteen." Healer Greengrass advised. Amelia stood, and Harry followed her to the door. Healer Greengrass reached out his hand and gently shook Harry's hand. Healer Jones, surprisingly, gave him a hug, tightly squeezing him.

"Be safe, Harry," Healer Jones whispered, before letting go of him.

Harry followed Amelia out into the hall after changing into an outfit she conjured for him. He wore a dark gray tee-shirt, a pair of black jeans, and black tennis shoes.

"It brings out your eyes, Harry," Amelia explained as they entered the elevator at the end of the hall. They passed a number of doors identical to the door to Harry's previous room. Each had a number outside, with a number of differently colored glowing orbs circling the number. Harry's had been white, a sign of release. Most were red or black, Harry did not have the gumption to ask what that signified.

"I look like Death's apprentice," Amelia barked out a laugh, tapping the number 'one' in the elevator with her wand. "Do all wizards dress like they're going to a funeral on a daily basis?"

The humor fell from her face. Amelia shook her head no. "That's enough now, Harry," She ordered. Not waiting for a response, she continued. "We will be using Apparition to travel to my home. I will warn you, the sensation of apparition is like the sensation of being swallowed by a black hole, only to reappear instantly hundreds of miles away."

Her glance did nothing to reassure him.

"Wait, this is something you lot do consistently? Daily?" Harry asked. "What kind of nonsense-"

"Get ready to be saying that a lot, kid," Amelia exited the elevator as the doors opened to reveal the main floor. The apparition zone was a closet sized area on the ground divided by a small wedge of wood that one had to step over. "Don't worry, people get split in half only a small percentage of the time." She winked, stepping into the zone. Harry held Amelia's hand as she spun on her heal.

His body twisted unnaturally, like he was being sucked down a highly pressurized drain. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head as the process felt like an eternity in a millisecond. The intense tightness around his body massaged his muscles in the process, cracking every air bubble between each bone. Suddenly, Amelia and Harry stood outside. They faced sprawling farmland only barely visible in the night. A small number of houses and barns could be seen off in the distance. Bright, glittering stars filled the country's night sky. The looming, heavy moon off in the distance. Harry hadn't seen such a sight in his life.

Amelia sneered, glaring up away from Harry. A howl in the distance turned her toward her family home.

"I cannot reveal where we are precisely, other than the fact that we are in France. If you find out where, I can simply confirm. But under the current magical contracts, I physically am unable to reveal anything. Magic, oh what a wonderfully terrible thing," Amelia muttered. She found Harry slack-jaw and mute beside her. "Catching flies, Harry?"

He flashed a smirk, before shaking his head.

When she described the home as a Manor, Harry anticipated a big home. What he found instead was a small castle. The Bones' Manor was a fortress. The front gate had a drawbridge, with a small moat to boot. "The moat is only filled with water of course, no magical animals to keep defense. I don't want to bother going through the paperwork to get that through the sludge," Amelia admitted to Harry. The Manor had four towers in each corner, each in an exact Cardinal direction.

Amelia sent a spell at the bridge, and whispered a password alongside her charm. The bridge lowered to reveal a half oval door, which opened in the middle as they approached. Two animated, stone statues spun from just inside the door as they neared closer. The statues carried massive steel war axes. The long poles and heavy, sharp blades reflected the half of the moon. Harry stopped dead in his tracks. Amelia marched on.

"They will not hurt you, Harry. I promise."

And Harry took another step forward. The guards approached Amelia, leveling their weapons with her head. The sharp edge of the blade sent an image of Vernon carrying the heavy shotgun rocketing through Harry's mind. He faltered, and stumbled back a bit. He slipped into his mind-scape. The warmth from the sun balancing his shoulders, relaxing them back into a natural position. He quickly ran through the field, before being sucked back out into reality.

Amelia grabbed his hand as she pulled her wand out again. Running it along the blade of the weapon, she spoke in a deep voice. A language Harry couldn't begin to understand flowed from her mouth as elegantly as did English. The guards shouldered their weapons and stomped back inside the castle walls. Amelia turned and faced Harry.

"Are you feeling alright, Harry?" His quick nod did not convince Amelia.

"I'm fine, thank you for your concern. Can I see the inside now? It's getting colder by the second," Harry complained. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders and brought him inside.

The entrance hall had an assortment of vases filled with an abundant colorfulness of soft yellow flowers sitting atop marble pedestals. Mirrors and small sculptures dotted about. The mirrors had golden borders with gems periodically inlaid into the framework. Sculptures of strange creatures and a few people were made of onyx, marble, gold, silver, and other material that Harry couldn't place. An elaborate, crystal chandelier took center stage. Hanging from a golden chain, the crystals surrounded a set of ten enflamed candles. Art from various eras filled the walls, which were otherwise bare stone or held tapestries and portraits of wars and battles.

These portraits were mobile. Harry figured they were animated with magic. Many were of ancient Bones family members. Ornate plaques with their titles, names, and life accomplishments were set beneath the portraits. A list of what Harry assumed to be classes were on the plaques, as well as the word 'OWLs' and 'NEWTs' with random letters following. Harry didn't know what that meant, nor did he have time to read anything but names as they passed. He made a mental note to return and study her family. A small sign popped into his field next to a fern that had _Go back and read the plaques._

"The Family Hall is directly through the entrance, those two doors there, see. We won't be eating there tonight. Actually, I hardly ever use the Hall, other than some of the holidays," Amelia explained. She walked with Harry through the West tower, which mainly consisted of guest rooms, and one room that was spelled shut. "See, this room has been locked for a few decades. We think Great Uncle Alfred might have used an original jinx on the door. I suggest you do some research before giving it a go. I won't pretend to believe you wouldn't attempt something."

Harry pitifully grinned. The moment he heard of the history of the door, he was looking for weak points. Analyzing potential locations for clustering spell charges- however that would be difficult without his own wand. That only just occurred to him, he needed a wand. And also spells to cast at it. Those were important.  
"Well, what do you think, Harry? Can you call this place home for awhile?" She asked passively. Harry had a wild look in his eyes. He could smell the energy buzzing around him. He nearly got whiplash as he chased the different streams of magic. He didn't understand why that was something that felt true to him. He couldn't see anything, but he felt drawn around like a boat floating down a stream.

"This place is amazing! I didn't get a chance to see the yard, we only walked a few feet from the outer portion of the property. May I ask how big this place actually is? Also there was talk of animals…" Harry asked, his eyes wide in student mode. He grinned, looking up with his shining green orbs. Amelia couldn't fight the smile emerging on her face.

"We will see the animals tomorrow, do not fret. This property is on three acres of land, not enormous by any means. The actual Manor takes up one and a half acres, including the center courtyard. The surrounding land has a few other buildings, the pool, the shed, and barn area. I plan on adding on to the dungeons, I just haven't had the gumption lately to do so." She mentioned, falling silent.

Amelia gathered her thoughts as they carried on through the Western Wall. The kitchens hid beneath the northern tower. A staff of House Elves sat at the center prep table, chatting and dicing vegetables for the following day. They all wore identical uniforms of gray with blue and yellow trim. When they saw Amelia, they magically 'popped' into a perfect line near the grill.

"Madam Amelia, we did not expect your company tonight!" Said the elf at the head of the line. His name-tag read 'Head Chef Monty.' "Of course, you are quite welcome whenever you please-"

"Monty, do you think you could whip something up for our newest resident and me? He's never had Monty's Famous Mac and Cheese." Monty broke into an excited smile and got to work with the help of his assistants. They worked seamlessly. Harry believed that they communicated telepathically. No explanation other than magic could explain their teamwork. In two or three minutes, the Chef had made two bowls of thick, macaroni and cheese, along with two grilled chicken breasts with mac and cheese as a sauce. Harry couldn't believe what his mouth was tasting, until he washed the first mouthful down with apple juice, and reloaded his face.

"Chef, thank you so much-" Harry started, as two elves wiggled their fingers. The bowl and silverware floated up into the air. Suds and bubbles erupted from the center and swirled the bowl clean.

"No, Master Harry, thank you! We cannot-" He glanced at Amelia's pointed shaking head, and stopped talking.

"What?"

After the meal, and profusely thanking the Chef again, Harry followed Amelia up a flight of stairs, to the top of that very tower. They went through a level that had exercise equipment, a level that was Amelia's bedroom, a level that was mainly a bathroom, and a level that was Amelia's study and personal lab and library. The lab was adjacent in a side room that Amelia did not allow him to explore. Her library rather disappointed Harry, a lone shelf filled with books sat behind her desk. However, a dial on the wall right of the shelf rotated to select a different selection of books.

"The dial is a secret, my young friend. There is a large library on the ground floor of the East Tower." Amelia offered, as Harry stared at her collection.

"What's in the middle of the building? A courtyard?" Harry asked.

"An empty one, since before I was born." Amelia sat at her desk, and offered a seat on the other side to Harry. "A well, and a chicken coop, but Monty doesn't need you poking your head around his chickens." She winked at him as he plopped in a seat so comfy it had to have an enchanted cushion. "What are your thoughts, in general, about the Wizarding World?"

Harry sat back in his seat, collecting his thoughts. Amelia flicked her wand at a stand beside her desk. The tea pot sitting on it floated up and poured warm water in a floating cup. Then, it floated over to a plate on the stand, not budging the spoon neatly set. He raised a finger for one scoop of sugar. With another swish, one cube hopped in and the plate floated over to Harry's hand. "Well, seeing as most of the books that I've read about the Wizarding world are government approved. I have questions about the government. I haven't read much about the International Confederation of Wizards, but they seem to act like a bunch of eh, jackasses. That's the only word that comes to mind " She chuckled as he watched on. For an eleven year old, he was quite perceptive, so she thought. "What do you think about the Wizarding World?"

She was caught off guard by his retort. It took her a moment to gather her thoughts, sipping her tea a few times and adding a few scoops of sugar. "We need to raise our standard of wizard and witch. In education, in the government, and on a social level. We need to become the generation we were meant to become, Harry. There needs to be a complete refocus on teaching magic and understanding our connection to magic. As you go through Hogwarts, be critical, but also play the game. I will not lie to you, Harry. For some reason I have yet to learn, you are much older than your years would suggest. You are quite sharp, if not a right git at some points-" Harry gave a light hearted chuckle at her ribbing. He had handled much harsher criticism from Vernon. "So, when I tell you what I think, I need you to keep it to yourself. I want to expand Hogwarts' education. And I want you to help me."

Harry sat up in the chair, sipping the best tea he had ever had. The luck he had experienced was one he was unfamiliar with. One he treated with trepidation. Amelia had to have had a reason for helping him, and this was how he would repay her for saving him from the Dursleys. Harry didn't know what abuse qualified for, but he felt like sometimes, only sometimes it was abuse. And that wasn't okay. But other times, he did break rules, and sometimes he didn't get his chores done. So sometimes he believed he deserved a punishment. This was not a punishment. This was an offer.

"What do I have to do?" Harry asked.

She smiled slowly. "I want you to do your best in every single class you take." Harry relaxed. "For the next seven years, I want you to be the best wizard you can be. And I want you to report to me the level of attention you gain from each professor. How much dedication those witches and wizards attempt at breaking the boundaries of magic and experiment. That is what education is, an experiment. The biggest experiment on earth, ran by social scientists. I want you to experiment with guidance from your educators, as well as with me, if you feel comfortable."

Harry didn't understand why she felt so confident sharing her plan to overhaul Hogwarts with an eleven year old. But he had to admit, he was very excited from the speech she had planned. "Harry, you don't know what this means for me. I will be catapulted onto the national stage. Then international if I play this right. You have become a very valuable ally to the Bones family and my loyalty runs deep. You are the Heir to the Noble House Potter. You will be studying where your family studied. While at Hogwarts, I will be sending your extra work to your professors, if that is acceptable for you. You didn't bother hiding your intelligence, but you are hiding something. Harry, can I tell you something about me?"

He nodded dumbly.

She didn't say a word, but immediately morphed into a golden lioness. Her fur was bright white and she was the length of her desk the long way. Her tail swayed powerfully and beat against the wall and desk with thuds. She morphed back to a wide-eyed and speechless Harry.

"Holy, Mother, of, God," Harry muttered to himself. He stared blankly at her for a moment before standing up. "I can't do that, if that's what you're suggesting because it really-"

"I'm not suggesting anything, I'm just letting you in on one of my secrets," Amelia answered. Harry nodded, then swallowed. He realized how much Amelia entrusted to his namesake. He didn't know much about how Family Houses interacted and the politics of the day, but he knew the look in Amelia's eye. "I know there is something you want to say. I can make a Magical Vow not to reveal what you say, and I will be bound by threat of losing my magic if I tell anyone. Would you prefer that avenue?"

Harry paused and searched her eyes for a hint of what she wanted. He fell into his seat. He couldn't read her, as hard as he tried. She had a stone cold stare. Being the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement made her body language skills decades past Harry's level of awareness. "No, I will tell you. I can talk to snakes. They come to me in the garden and tell me I'm a good speaker, and bad speakers don't understand how magic works. I always felt crazy. When I was getting chased by Dudley and his friends, I wished I was far away from them and somehow ended up on the roof of my school. Later that night, a Garter snake named Gregory told me he heard about my apparition, except it didn't feel like earlier tonight. I really thought I was crazy because the Dursleys always said that it was freakish and that I shouldn't talk about what happens." Harry took a deep breath, and sipped his tea. His curious green eye looking over his cup at Amelia. She hadn't moved a muscle besides blinking slowly.

"But it was magic. All along, it was natural and normal. And not freakish. Now, I don't have to go back. I feel safer here. The Healers were wonderful people, and they use magic to heal and help others. I admire that about them. I've read about some terrible people. Hitler, Stalin, Mussolini… I don't want to let people do that to others ever again. I don't know what it takes to stop those kinds of people, but I assume you don't want to see that happen either. Unless you're just playing the Department of Magical Law like a fiddle." She shook her head seriously. A smile slid onto Harry's face. "There are things I'm not sure about. The minister said I was "The-Boy-Who-Lived," and I figure you will tell me or let me read about that when I'm ready."

Amelia clearly looked surprised by his forwardness.

"I apologize for not being honest about that, Harry. It is a long story for a different day. You have many people who support you, even though you may not know that. I will be by your side until we find all of the evil people in this world. Unfortunately, more and more pop up daily. The DMLE could use a heart like yours in the future. I will explain more tomorrow. We must prepare you for that. For what is to come should not concern you. For now, you should sleep. I will permit you the East Tower to do with what you will. Jilly is the only house elf I've ever met with the interior design skills of a professional. She can help decorate, just be reasonable. Except with books. I want you to be as unreasonably obsessed with your books," she grinned in spite of herself. "Off to bed with you. We'll be going to Diagon Alley in the morning. Get some sleep, kid."

Harry finished his tea, picked up another delicious biscuit, and walked toward the door. He stopped, turned, and smiled warmly at Amelia. She mirrored him, and he left her alone.

Amelia silently watched him as he went. On his way to the East Tower, he caught wisps of magic floating about. The trails followed invisible little beings. Harry could see them in his peripheral vision but any time he focused on one, the entire trail disappeared. He felt wary after too many attempts, and began ignoring the strange tickling in the back of his head. He reached a door that read ' _East Tower,'_ which faded away and was replaced with ' _Harry's Tower.'_

He couldn't help the bark of laughter that escaped his mouth. His tower! She gave him a tower! He looked around, and then pinched himself on the arm. He pushed the heavy door open and once again stood in awe.

The only entrance was on the bottom floor of the manor. The bottom floor, as Amelia previously mentioned, was a library with bookcases from floor to ceiling around the edge of the room. Bookshelves lined the circular staircase in the middle of the room. There were some select shelves with a good number of books already in place. The open space only encouraged Harry's insatiable urge to buy every book man had ever written. He placed _Occlumency, A Beginner's Guide_ on the shelf, only for the book to be pulled from its spot. It floated around the shelves, before settling at a section opposite of where he stood. Harry walked over and found that it was in a section with other mind magic books, in alphabetic order within the topic.

Tables and comfy armchairs dotted about. A large fireplace with an ornate marble mantle stood on one side. Small lamps were enchanted to light up when anyone was around, giving off a cozy glow. There were no windows at this level, the library was the bunker should the manor it be attacked. Climbing up the staircases, Harry found that the three floors each had ten feet tall walls and flat ceilings. Three large, ornate chandeliers dangled on each level.

The study, dining room, and living room combination were on the second floor. The entrance of the room had a small sitting area with two couches facing each other, with a glass coffee table sitting between the two. An L-desk sat on one side. The same elm wood that made up the desk matched the rest of the tower's wood accent. Large, comfy office chairs sat beside the desk. On the opposite side of the room, a long dining table sat with six chairs and six sets of eating utensils and plates sat in place. The walls were mostly empty between ported windows. A number of portraits of city and country scenery alike were placed around the room.

He still couldn't believe Amelia would let him live in this tower. Granted he was helping her a great deal. The overwhelming kindness surprised him. He climbed up to his bedroom, where a king-sized, four poster bed sat in the middle of the room. The comforter and blankets were the Bones' house colors of yellow and blue. The draperies around the posts were a soft gray, allowing for just enough privacy. He found his way to the closet, which stood mostly empty.

"Hm," Harry said to himself. "We'll have to go shopping soon. I hope she is okay if I buy a couple outfits."

"Oh Madam Amelia will be perfectly happy to buy you new clothes, Master Harry." A voice behind Harry gave him a jump. He spun to face his guest. A young house elf stood at attention dressed in the Bones' uniform. The name-tag read 'Ollie.' "Sorry to frighten you, meant no trouble."

Harry smiled lightly. "You are no trouble at all Ollie, pleasure to meet you. I'm Harry-"

"You need not introduce yourself, Master. We house elves know of Harry Potter, of course. I am Ollie, Keeper of the East Tower. My family has served the Bones' family with honor since they came to own Bones' Manor, formerly named Nott Manor. Do you have any questions or have any needs I may be servicing?"

Ollie's bright, purple eyes were wide with anticipation. His ears pointed at attention, and his back straight with practiced grace.

"Uhm. Not right away, I guess. Are there toiletries available? I haven't any of my own," Harry wanted to mention he didn't have many possessions of his own at all, but thought that was unnecessary to add. Ollie snapped his fingers and a basket appeared at Harry's feet. Shampoo, toothpaste, a brush, and various other bathroom essentials were inside, all muggle products. "Do wizards have their own brands of this stuff?"

"Oh yes, we thought you would be most comfortable with familiar products. Madam Amelia will show you more products tomorrow," Ollie informed.

"I think I'll turn in for the night. Thank you for your help, Ollie, I appreciate everything Amelia and the staff has done for me. This is truly remarkable," Harry admitted.

Ollie's tan skin blushed deeply, giving a bow so deep his long nose brushed the floor. "The honor is ours, Master Harry-" Harry held up his hand.

"I'm sorry, why do you refer to me as your master? I am not-"

"Master Harry, I am the Keeper of this tower, and you are its only resident. I serve all who inhabit this manor, but you are my main responsibility. It is not because of any bond between you and me. When you took residence, you also inherited me as your elf whilst you are under Bones' protection. If, at some point, you wish me to become your personal family elf, Madam Amelia would be required to approve of the trade of bond. I have never experienced this process, but it does happen sometimes. Anyway, you are the Master of the tower at the moment, and to refer to you as anything else would disrespect my position, the tower, the Bones family, and most importantly, disrespect you. So, Master Harry, I will bid you goodnight. Breakfast is scheduled at eight o'clock tomorrow morning in the Family Hall." With another deep bow, and without waiting for dismissal, Ollie 'popped' away.

Harry, completely bewildered, stood alone in his closet for a moment.

"Magic, what a wild world I live in."

"How did you sleep?" Amelia asked as Harry moseyed across the length of the Family Hall. He gently took the seat across from Amelia. He was half asleep, so it took a moment for him to answer. He poured orange juice into his cup in the mean time. "Harry?"

"I have never experienced a bed so comfortable," Harry gave a wide yawn behind his hand. An assortment of food shimmered into existence before them. A row of toast and bacon sat beside a dish of scrambled eggs. Dishes of fruit were periodically strewn about. The hash browns were to Harry's right on a silver platter. Stacked Belgian waffles leaned against vats of syrup. More juices, milk, and coffee with additional cups appeared along with it.

Harry jumped in his seat as Monty 'popped' beside him.

"My apologies, Master Harry. We hope this is to your liking. If you would like any additional food, we are quick with a whisk!" Monty said with a wide smile. Amelia gave him a pat on his shoulder.

"This look lovely, Monty, thank you very much. Harry, this is alright for this morning?" Amelia asked, a knowing smile on her lips.

Harry gave an incredulous look. "Amelia, this is perfect! Who doesn't like bacon?" He asked, loading his plate with a bit of everything. "Monty, I cannot wait to see more of your cooking. I am already amazed with what I've seen."

Monty's smile broadened at his praise.

"Of course, Master Harry. I will do my best," Monty said, giving a low bow. "Madam Amelia, Master Harry, have a good day." He 'popped' away.

"Is that apparition?" Harry asked between mouthfuls of eggs and waffles. He tried to remember his manners, but the quality of food before him was overwhelming.

Amelia wiped her mouth with her napkin and swallowed. "It is a very similar form to our version. One major difference, House Elves are able to apparate directly to their bonded wizard or witch."

"So we cannot apparate directly to a person?" Amelia nodded, forking her eggs and politely eating them. Harry thought for a moment. "Is that the only way House Elves can apparate? Or are they able to go anywhere they'd like?"

Amelia brought her hand up to her chin. Hey eyebrows slightly furrowed as she swallowed. "Well, it would depend on their family. Bones' House elves are allowed to roam freely as long as their adventures do not take away from their responsibilities and duties. That, as well as interfering with another family's business or their house elves ability to perform their duties." She paused, sipping her coffee. They sat silently, well, as silent as Harry could be while scarfing down his meal. A few minutes later, and after Amelia had finished the morning paper, she looked up over the paper to her young companion. "Well. Have you had your fill?"

Harry had hardly made a dent in his plate, but he had leaned back against his chair rubbing his stomach. A natural case of 'eyes too big for his stomach.' He nodded, emptying his cup of orange juice into his mouth. Amelia pulled out a muggle pill bottle, unscrewed the top, and poured out two separate types of pills. She called for Monty, who returned prepared with a tall glass of a vibrant, golden potion atop a silver plate.

"What is this?" Harry asked. Amelia handed him the three items. "All at once?"

"Make sure the potion is first. The smaller pill is a muggle vitamin supplement. The larger is a magical vitamin that strengthens your magical core retention. The potion will help your core with stabilizing your production levels, this is the one Healer Greengrass prescribed.

"When will we see your pets?" Harry asked, following Amelia's lead as she stood, pushed her chair in, and strode toward the door.

"Do you mean, 'Could we perhaps see your pets my dear Madam Bones, oh ever so please'?" Amelia mockingly asked in a poor attempt at imitating Harry's boyish voice. She had a smug grin on her face as Harry stomped along behind her.

"That wasn't very clever Madam Bones, could we please see your animals sometime soon?" Harry mumbled loud enough for her to hear.

"Why yes, good sir Mister Potter. However, you must keep your patience long enough for the duration of our trip to Diagon Alley. Could you do that for me?" Amelia asked. They left the Family Hall and made their way out of the manor. Amelia tapped her wand on the stone statues a number of times while whispering.

Harry leaned in to listen, though he did not hear the slightest breath from Amelia.

"You can keep trying, but the wards will not let you in on the secret," Amelia informed.

A blush crept up Harry's neck.

"Sorry, just trying to learn, ya know," Harry said.

Amelia rolled her eyes. They began walking across the draw bridge, and out onto the gravel path away from the manor.

"So where are we going first? To get my wand? To get books?" Harry rifled off questions. Amelia put her hand on his shoulder without warning.

In a flash, Harry's world disappeared from him as he got pulled through a tight invisible hole.

"Amelia-" Harry breathlessly started, leaning against the brick wall that suddenly appeared beside them. "Please, for the love of all things holy, warn me before you do that."

After taking another breath, he looked around for the first time. Amelia stood with her back to him, looking around in an agitated state. They stood in an alleyway off of what looked to be a street in London. Cars and people passed periodically, although no one bothered to look in their way.

"Amelia are you okay? Is this Diagon Alley?" Harry asked.

She barked out a single laugh, but her tone remained reserved.

"No, Harry, this is not Diagon Alley. We are very near, however… something is off. I felt a bit of magic shift when we arrived. Stay close to me," Amelia warned. He followed her instruction as they went off toward one end of the alley. " _Homenum Revelio,_ " Amelia cast, her wand pointing out for a slight second. Her eyes narrowed to a dumpster ten feet in front of them off to their right. "What in Merlin's name?"

Harry watched as she flicked her wand up, flipping open the top of the dumpster. She slashed down to the left, and the dumpster fell open and its contents spilled out. A man in a trench coat fell out along with the trash.

"Who are you?" Amelia barked out, commanding rather than questioning. He was a gaunt, short man. Stringy, ginger hair tangled its way down his scalp. He had a wide nose, which sat awkwardly on his otherwise narrow head. His jaw was slim, but nearly blinding was his stench. Other than the smell of garbage, he might have spilled a bottle or two of liquor on his chest. That or he was right drunk. He had a strong odor of tobacco and some other rather foul smells. At least, they were completely unfamiliar to Harry. Amelia, however, narrowed her eyes as she got slightly closer. "Wait! Mundungus Fletcher, what are you doing here?"

"Madam Bones, how do you do!" Mundungus said cheerfully, fixing his cap back on his head. He looked a little dazed by the sudden sunlight. He squinted his eyes at Amelia. "Oh I must have uh, not wanted to get an AUI. Can't afford to lose my license again. So I must've, must've chosen to sleep in the bin o'right." He paused, eyeing Harry over. "Who's in custody today, Madam?"

"He is not in custody of the Ministry, Dung. Harry, this is Mundungus Fletcher. Try not to be too impressed," Amelia said, almost bored of the subject. "Dung, have a good day." They began to walk by, when Dung reached out and held Harry by the arm.

"Madam, you know _someone_ is looking for Harry Potter, correct?" Mundungus asked, his grip on Harry's arm loose, yet still present.

Amelia responded by gripping Harry's left wrist with the strength of Thor himself. She jabbed her wand under Mundungus' chin and spun Harry out of his hand.

"I am well aware of what _he_ wants, forgive me if I don't quite care. Touch my ward again, and I'll put you in Azkaban without losing a wink of sleep, understood?" She asked in a low growl.

Mundungus glanced awkwardly at Harry, then back to Amelia. He took a few steps back. Amelia dropped Harry's wrist but kept her wand aimed in Mundungus' general direction.

"I didn't mean nothing by it, Madam. I'm, I'm right sorry, I just had a message to deliver," Mundungus stumbled out. He fixed his coat and took a couple steps back. "Have a good day now, Madam Bones."

He stumbled down the toward end of the alleyway and shuffled out of sight.

"I'm sorry, what was that about?" Harry asked, following Amelia in the same direction as Mundungus. "Amelia-"

"I will explain at the manor, forget it for now. Please, Harry, I promise I will explain, but only in private," Amelia was not nearly as firm with Harry as she was Mundungus. She had a soft explanation for Harry. He imagined she had this ready to go without a second thought. "We were nearly at the Cauldron. I didn't anticipate he would do that."

Harry followed her silently. Until she turned, expecting a response.

"I'm satisfied. Let's get my school supplies quickly, and return to the manor. I don't suppose more people are going to look at me like he was, right?" Harry asked. Amelia nodded slowly, and then turned into a closed doorway. "Amelia?"

"I can apply charms and transfigurations that can change your appearance. Come, we can avoid the unwanted attention," Amelia expectantly waved him over.

Harry paused, before slowly going in.

"I don't want to do that, Amelia," Harry slowly said. "I won't be going to Hogwarts looking different than I am. And I don't think it's necessary for me to today."

She paused, looked up into the sky momentarily, and nodded. "I am both glad and irritated by that response. You have done it. You are your father's son," Amelia said. She met his eyes with a sad smile.

"I'm not sure what you mean by that. I assume that is both a compliment and an insult," Harry slightly grinned. They continued walking down the alley. At the end of the alley, Amelia turned and pointed at a decrepit door. The sign above the door had faded with the years. Harry couldn't make out the name. The windows were boarded up. The outer lights had more than enough cobwebs within to spark another city-wide fire.

"Here we are, The Leaky Cauldron," Amelia said, softly chuckling at Harry's disappointment. "Like most things in the magical world, what you see at first glance is not always what is in store."

Amelia thought for a moment before reaching out a hand and brushing Harry's hair over his forehead. Without a word, she pushed open the door and quickly pulled Harry inside. A rush of delicious smells met his nostrils. The first thing he noticed was the eerie silence from the bar's patrons. A handful of crusty looking men sat at the bar, sipping their morning drinks from mugs and glasses. More patrons sat about in booths, tables, and armchairs. Three roaring fireplaces were chaotically set about, although as Harry and Amelia passed one, he didn't notice a great deal of heat emitting from them. There were strange animal heads along the walls, with moving portraits dotting between them. A rickety-looking staircase lead up to the rooms for rent. Bottles floated on their own toward the bar, with rags cleaning them of their own accord.

"Madam Bones!" A balding barman said, finding his way over to the two. He wore a stained, collared shirt underneath a more heavily stained apron. He had heavy set eyebrows and watchful eyes. "Who do we have 'ere? A long lost Bones nephew perhaps? You don't look- blimey, could it be?" His eyes widened as he looked over Harry. "No-"

"Tom, please, not right now. We would very much appreciate your discretion," Amelia insisted. He continued staring at Harry for a moment before turning to face Amelia.

"Of course. M'sorry, Madam, just not everyday you meet _the_ Harry Potter," Tom gave Harry a pat on his shoulder. "Nice to meet you lad, I'm Tom, owner and barkeep of this here establishment. The Leaky Cauldron has been in my family-ooh- longer than we care to remember-"

"Tom," Amelia curtly cut off. "We must get going."

He nodded, blushing ever so slightly. He gave a bow, and let them pass. A few of the patrons had taken notice to the odd arrangement. The smoke-filled room gave a nice cover as Amelia skirted them through the least populated section of the pub. One man, wearing a thick, purple turban, stood and placed himself between the duo and the back exit.

"M-M-Madam Bones, good to see you. T-this must be your new ward _everyone_ is talking about," the man carried the stench of garlic. A strangeness in his eyes gave the glassy brown a far away look. As if he saw one too many horror flicks before going through a haunted house filled with his mother's dead corpse.

"Unfortunate thing, gossip," Amelia gave a strained smile. "Harry, this is Professor Quirrell, he will be your Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor. Professor Quirrell, meet Harry Potter. Now, not to be rude Professor-"

"B-b-by all means, Madam B-b-bones. I just wanted to introduce myself." Professor Quirrell gave a quick nod, returning to his seat.

Without any other interruptions, they found their way to the back of the pub. Amelia snuck Harry through the back door to a compact stone-courtyard. It was less a courtyard and more of a short alleyway to nowhere. Tall brick walls surrounded the open area. A few trashcans sat in the corner while a tabby cat crawled on the top of one of the walls.

"Alright, so this is where you kill me, right?" Harry asked deadpanned. Amelia replied with a smirk, while taking her wand out. "Oh blimey, I was only joking!"

She turned and tapped her wand on a series of bricks, three up diagonally, and two straight down. Amelia turned and grinned at Harry before facing the wall again. The bricks began to shift and rotate away from the center. Harry's eyes widened as the bricks fell away. The archway widened and grew enough that even someone Hagrid's size could walk through without ducking.

Harry followed Amelia through the opening and found himself in another world. A wide range of shops lined the cobblestone street. Hardly anyone was out shopping yet, but the majority of shops were opening up. An employee from Callie's Cauldron was cleaning the windows from the inside. The Apothecary, aptly named 'The Apothecary,' was just unlocking their front door as Harry and Amelia passed by. The owner nodded politely, before entering his shop. "We work closely with Mr. Tortive at the DMLE. His potions are almost on par with your future instructor, as much as I loathe to admit. He also has many… connections that have helped us out in the past," Amelia supplied.

Harry did not respond. He was awestruck. Everything he looked at belonged to an alien world, his world, that he was just realizing was exponentially expanding. They passed the stationary shop, which was as dull as one could imagine. Eeylops Owl Emporium had a variety of seemingly regular animals on display in the windows. Harry thought it looked interesting, but only had eyes for one shop.

"Harry, we cannot go in yet. We need to get your money first," Amelia reminded. Harry had his nose pressed against the window of Flourish and Blotts. An older fellow wandered the nearly empty bookstore, his wand directing a symphony of books. They floated up and around, sorting themselves like streams diverging from a massive river. The old man took notice to Harry and gave him a wide smile. "Harry, let's get a move on!"

And with a hefty pull, Amelia dragged him toward an even stranger building. It was tall, and made of old, stained marble. Harry was sure that it once stood straight up, but with the years, a slight curve in the framework made the building lean at impossible angles. Harry gathered that magic supported that structure, lest it collapse under its own weight. Two statues of strange, short, beings stood guard outside the front doors. They carried spears and had sheathed swords at their waists. "What in the heaven's are those things?"

"Those, Harry, are goblins. They are excellent miners and smith-masters. As well as being some of the fiercest warriors to walk the Earth, or I guess, to walk under the Earth. While the majority live in their underground fortresses for the majority of their lives, they dedicate a portion of their Kingdoms to working with us. There are goblin representatives at our ministry, as well as being the primary fiduciary for estates, banking, and other financial investments in our world. There is a long history within and between the many Goblin Kingdoms. The interactions between goblins and wizards will be covered in the first few years of your history classes, try to stay awake through them," Amelia explained as they neared

Harry grinned, despite his anticipation at meeting the Goblins. He followed Amelia up the stairs toward the massive, bronze doors. Harry found glittering gold words reflecting the sparkling sun off spectacularly. "What is this?" Harry asked Amelia. He read the words a few times over, as Amelia watched him carefully. A bemused smirk stuck on her face.

Oh, Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed

For those who take, but do not earn

Must pay most dearly in their turn

So if you seek beneath our floors

A treasure that was never yours

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there.*

"Has anyone actually tried to steal from Gringotts before?" Harry asked Amelia. She pulled the doors open to reveal an ornate, entrance room. Harry laid his eyes on two real-life goblin. They stood nearly exactly like their stone counterparts outside of the building. They carried sharp steel swords, sitting in sheaths at their waists. The goblin to Harry's left leaned against a long spear, with an intimidatingly sharp head on top. The goblin to Harry's right held an equally dastardly halberd. The goblins wore heavy armor. They wore bright, shiny chainmail draped over fine leather tunics, with long capes hanging from their shoulders. Their hands and feet were encased in metal gauntlets and boots to boot. Harry thought he would be more intimidated by them, and he was more so than he admitted to himself, but the top of their head reached only his ribcage. They were fearsome, as much as Harry had to convince himself.

"Unsuccessfully," Amelia answered. The goblins eyed the two apprehensively as they approached. "So don't try it, if that's what you are thinking."

Harry shook his head, keeping his shoulders square as they neared the inner set of doors. There was no inscription on this door, only plain steel. The walls of this room had magical portraits portraying goblin battles. Harry first thought they depicted medieval wars. The only difference was that the majority of these battles were within massive, underground cave systems. One specific portrait caught Harry's attention. Two huge armies charged at one another, but the portrait reset itself when they neared so close that only one armored goblin could be seen being run through by a long-spear.

"This is amazing," Harry admired, wandering over to the painting. "When did this battle take place?" He asked the guard holding the halberd.

The goblin had narrowed his eyebrows. His eyes searched over every bit of Harry, wondering if he was having a go at him. When he could detect no such game being played, his shoulders slightly relaxed.

"Well." His voice was rough and shallow, like he wasn't used to talking. "That is the final battle between the Kingdom of Rangor and Kingdom of Ragnar. That was… let's see, nearly four hundred years ago now. King Ragnar X is the 17th King since the Kingdoms unified in the 16th century."

"Wait, the current King is named Ragnar also? How do they decide who gets named after the first king of the Unified Kingdom?" Harry asked. The goblin glanced at Amelia, perhaps wishing she would take Harry away from him. Amelia watched with curious eyes. The goblin returned his attention to Harry, and cleared his throat.

"First, this isn't called the Unified Kingdom. We know it by a different name in Gobbledegook, but wizards know it as the Kingdom of Ragnar. There are other goblin kings throughout the world, but none dare test the strength of our forces. So, King Ragnar is the tenth in direct line, but over time and through political… negotiations, different goblins have held title of King. But as is their family's destiny, they continue to reclaim the title through single combat or sheer wit," The goblin explained. Harry nodded, his eyes wide as he took in the information. "Anything else we can help you with?" Harry wanted to continue, but he took Amelia's shaking head as a hint.

"No, thank you for what you shared. I am excited to learn about your people and culture. Thank you for your time, sir," Harry timidly reached out his hand. The goblin looked down at it, returned to Harry's face with analyzing eyes.

"You are a most peculiar wizard," He said. "I am Grobben, this is Keltar. It is custom to know one's name before sharing such…intimacies."

Harry blushed at his faux pas. "I'm sorry, sir. My name is Harry Potter, pleasure to meet you." The two goblins shared a look. Keltar had been enjoying the exchange, an uncharacteristic smirk on his face as he watched his fellow guard struggle to interact with the child. Now, he looked quite shocked.

Grobben set his halberd against the wall, took his gauntlet off with one of his hands, and took Harry's in his grasp. He was strong in a brutish way. His nails dug into Harry's hand, but not with the intent to hurt him, as far as Harry could tell.

"Mr. Potter, thank you for what you have done. We goblins know of your sacrifices," he looked at Keltar again, before turning his head toward Amelia. He kept Harry's hand as he spoke. "Madam Bones, you know we goblins hold our clients privacy to the utmost respect, no?"

She barked a laugh. "Oh I do know. Trying to get a vault search warrant through Ambassador Galraid, at the Ministry, is about as difficult as getting a Dragon Permit for a child's birthday party. Why do you mention?"

"Well, we believe that Headmaster Dumbledore is inside, not for his own business, but for another purpose. We overheard him speaking with a wretched smelling bum on the way in. We definitely heard Mr. Potter's name more than once, alongside your name. Normally this is not something we would divulge, but we know of the recent change in Magical Guardianship. Quite the noise was made when he first found out. Many of our associates needed to escort Headmaster Dumbledore out of the building a few weeks ago." He paused, and let go of Harry's hand. "Why don't we escort you inside?"

A/N: And there it is folks! Once again, thank you for your patience. I won't promise consistent updates with life being how it is at the moment. I have some grand plans for this story, so I'm excited to see where I eventually take it. If you worry about Harry Mary Sueing out, I promise the standard for muggles and wizards will be raised. He is an intelligent student, but he will stray off course from time to time. I plan on rapidly increasing some aspects of the Canon plot, while pushing off some of the other stuff. If you know anyone who might like this story, give 'em a reference. I never see authors ask for that, but hey wtf I might as well. If you have any questions or concerns, leave a comment! Have a good Thanksgiving to my United State's readers!

Until next time,

AB

*Pg. 57 _Harry Potter and The Socerer's Stone_


	4. Chapter Three: Business as Usual

Chapter Three: Business as Usual

"Perhaps you should," Amelia said. "Could you give us a moment before we go? I would like a word with Harry." Grobben nodded and joined Keltar on the other side of the room. "Harry… I must warn you. This meeting is not one I anticipated, nor is it one you must go through." Amelia breathed deeply, and looked toward the closed doors into the bank.

"Should I be afraid of him?" Harry cautiously asked. "He is the headmaster of my future school. He wouldn't do anything… outlandish, would he?"

"Oh, no, that's unlikely. I only worry that this may stress you more than necessary," Amelia looked back down at Harry. Her intense eyes sent a wave of energy up Harry's spine, and left him feeling both protected and alert.

Harry took a moment and thought about his options. His meeting the Headmaster Dumbledore was inevitable. Would it really stress him too much to meet him now? At least he had Amelia right now.

"I'll be fine," Harry assured, nodding toward the door. "I do plan on following you in though." She took his hand in hers, squeezed slightly, and gave Grobben a look.

"After you, good Goblin," Amelia said as if going into battle. Grobben and Keltar lead them through the doorway. Harry had thought the entrance room was ornate. This hall, however, was aggressively royal. Amelia's entrance hall had a similar taste, but no where near the quantity. Massive crystal chandeliers dropped from ceiling on golden chains. Harry could not see the ceiling itself. "The ceiling is charmed that way, makes the room seem bigger than it actually is," Amelia informed when she saw Harry staring up into the nothingness.

The first half of the hall was clearly meant to impress their clients. Large statues of various creatures were made of gold, silver, platinum, obsidian, and many others unrecognizable to Harry. There were creepy spiders, ferocious dragons, menacing minotaurs, fierce centaurs, goblins tiny in comparison, wizards with scornful faces, and other creatures that Harry only could guess what they were. These statues stood in front of tall stone walls that held massive portraits depicting similar episodes of combat as the entrance room. These were enchanted to show full battles. Harry nearly lost himself watching goblins decapitate other goblins.

"Harry, come along now," Amelia pulled him past the statues to where the business end of the bank began. The three sides of the bank were filled with goblins behind a long, singularly connected desk. The left side had a sign that read: _Currency Exchange_ , the right side had a sign that read: _Bank Information, Kingdom Information, and Vault Access_. The end of the hall had taller desks, with thin barrier for appearance of privacy. Its sign read: _Family Law and Investment_.

The goblins sitting behind the desks wore fine suits, not of armor, but of silk. Their long, crooked noses held up polished reading glasses. Their beady, black eyes bore into the two humans being lead by their brethren. This was a sight they hadn't seen in a long awhile. The hardwood floor clicked and smacked as their metal boots clomped down. Amelia's heels joined in off beat. Harry's wide eyes scanned the room as they crossed the front part of the hall. A few wizards stood exchanging money for some other type. One wizard argued with a goblin near the Vault Access area. Behind the desks, a single track of a rail ran from the darkened abyss cut into the wall to the opposite wall into another darkened abyss.

As they neared the back, the energy rolled from the aging man. Amelia's power felt like a lion prowling about, searching for her next meal. Her graceful strength corresponded in her human form.

This man had no such prowl. He stood with a similar grace of wisdom and experience, but he teetered from toe to heel more often than the average bloke. It was as if he was trying to balance his mind as much as he was his body. He was the most stereotypical-looking wizard Harry had seen so far. He wore a flowing, ruby and gold set of silk robes. His white hair draped down his back like a snowy avalanche. A matching cap snugly fit his head, with a droopy ball flopping to the side. His back was tense as he argued with a bored looking goblin. Harry heard his calm yet stern tone as they approached the high desk. Mundungus stood beside him, glancing up into the ceiling just as Harry had before.

"…well, I will be speaking to the Ministry about this," The angry, yet reserved tone of the elder wizard calmed and frightened Harry. Mundungus stood beside the headmaster. He took notice of Harry and Amelia, and tapped Professor Dumbledore on the elbow. "Not now, Mundundgus." Having glanced at Mundungus, he saw the two from the corner of his eye. In a flash, his back straightened, shoulders relaxed, and a wide smile found its way to his face. He was old, but his spirit was still young. His bright, alert eyes shimmered as he turned and faced the two. "Harry. Potter." He took in the sight of Harry, not paying any attention to Amelia. "You look so much like your father, but your eyes… you have your mother's eyes."

Harry couldn't help the blush from flooding his face. He had never seen his parents, let alone hear that he was so alike to them. He searched for any words that might have resembled coherent speech, but all grammar and diction was lost on him in the face of Professor Dumbledore.

"Headmaster, good to see you," Amelia said, not at all sounding like it was. "What brings you to Gringotts today?" Grobben and Keltar took a few steps behind Amelia a ways, trying to look inconspicuous. This was difficult for goblins to do in their own right. Throw in a bunch of weapons and armor… their purpose become a little more obvious.

Professor Dumbledore glanced at Mundungus, who wordlessly got the hint. He nodded his goodbye to Amelia as he rushed past her, eyeing the goblins suspiciously as he left the bank.

"Madam Bones, I think this would be more appropriately discussed in my office, or perhaps your office if that is more comfortable for you," Professor Dumbledore paused. He had a slow-rolling, inviting tone. Even if the subject was discomforting, it never felt so to the listener. "Sometimes-"

"What is there to be discussed?" Amelia innocently asked. She put a gentle hand on Harry's shoulder. He didn't know if that was to reassure him or to steady herself. "We are here to visit Mr. Potter's vault and to get his items for Hogwarts. See? No need for trips to our offices."

Professor Dumbledore put a slow, calculating smile on his face. One that was both sad and knowing. For an inexplicable reason, Harry felt as though he had disappointed this man. The world was abuzz around them. More witches and wizards filed in as the morning opened up, but all Harry could focus on was the intense stare coming from Professor Dumbledore's blue eyes. He heard a whisper in the back of his mind that he should look away, but something kept him from breaking eye contact. He slipped into his mind's field, but somehow it was not his own. He could feel the grass tickling his ankles, the flowers brushing his knees, and the spring in his step from the spongy plain. All he could see in his minds eye was the car ride with the Dursleys on the way to the docks the night before Amelia rescued him.

"Harry, are you-" Amelia broke Harry out into reality. "Harry?"

"I'm okay, Madam Bones," Harry said, purposefully using the formal. His voice was small and timid. He stared down at his tennis shoes. "I would like to get some money now, if that's okay."

"That is perfectly okay, Harry. Headmaster, if you'll excuse us. We can discuss whatever it is you are insinuating at another time," Amelia ushered Harry around Professor Dumbledore without another word.

Professor Dumbledore looked only slightly annoyed, but reached out a hand onto Harry's forearm. This was a much more mild move than Mundungus had been.

"Harry, I personally am excited to have you at Hogwarts this year. I expect great things from you and your classmates. Madam Bones, shall I send an owl to the ministry to set up an appointment or-"

"That sounds wonderful. Good day, Headmaster," Amelia said. She turned and faced the desk, not bothering to look back at him.

"Harry, we shall see each other on September 1st. If I may, I suggest you read a book that I have been enjoying recently. It was written by an old friend of mine by the name of Masedus Riverdere. It's called _The Rise and Fall of The Dark Arts._ It may be a little more advanced than some of your other textbooks. However, it offers great insight into our Wizarding History. There are pieces analyzed within the book, that make up to a grand puzzle. One puzzle that of which we are all a part of in life," Professor Dumbledore said. His smile was deep and genuine, but Harry couldn't help but feel an ulterior motive was amidst his kindness. "Perhaps Madam Bones has a copy that she may loan you?"

"We are trying to introduce Harry to our world at an appropriate rate, Headmaster. Perhaps Professor Quirrell could add this to the reading list for his second years next school year?" Amelia offered rather diplomatically.

Professor Dumbledore bowed his head graciously, letting go of Harry's forearm.

"I should be off then. It was lovely to meet you, Harry. Madam Bones," he spun on his heel with the spring of a child, and wandered away. On his way out, he nodded toward Grobben and Keltar.

"That was… unusual," Harry admitted quietly beside his temporary guardian. "Is he always so… airy?"

"That is a very polite way of describing him," Amelia suppressed a laugh. "We might make a politician out of you yet, Harry." She turned to face the ever growingly bored goblin. "Hello, we need a copy of Harry Potter's vault key."

"Ah, Madam Bones… My name is Heavyfist. We have a number of documents to go through with you and Mr. Potter. If you would join me in my office for a few moments, we can then allow you to access your vaults. I assure you, there should be no conflicts. This is merely to record your temporary guardianship over Mr. Potter."

"Of course," Amelia said. She turned to face Grobben and Keltar. "Thank you for your help, as uneventful as that might have been for you." The two goblins bowed to Amelia, and then silently approached Harry.

"Harry Potter," Grobben said with an outstretched hand. "Thank you."

Harry glanced at Amelia, before taking his hand. "I-ah, you're welcome, but I apologize for not quite knowing what I have done for you." He shook Keltar's hand, who also solemnly thanked him.

"You will learn, Harry Potter," Keltar said.

They left without another word.

"If you will follow me," Heavyfist instructed. The section next to his desk slid open seamlessly, and he beckoned them inward. He led them down the lone hallway behind his desk. Gray, plush carpet and dark-wood walls lead them to a seemingly random door in the wall. "Would you care for water, coffee, or pumpkin juice?"

"No, thank you, Heavyfist," Amelia elegantly countered as they followed him into his office. The room was small but extravagant. The carpet and walls matched the hallway, but his desk was a heavy, black marble L-desk that sat in the back left corner. He had a love seat and two arm chairs on the right side of the room, all of which were of similar marble, with thick, green cushions. He took a seat behind his desk and waved them to sit.

Throughout Harry's journey back, he had a lingering thought about Professor Dumbledore that unsettled his mind. He couldn't quite explain his discomfort, but Amelia took notice when he remained in the doorway, instead of sitting in one of the armchairs on the opposite side of Heavyfist.

"Harry?" Amelia asked as she took her seat. He shook his head and quickly sat beside her. "Are you okay? We can come back another day, if you would prefer."

"Oh, no…" Harry awkwardly laughed. "I'm just trying to process… ya know, everything."

"This is quite the overwhelming experience for muggleborns. It must be increasingly so for your situation," Heavyfist, surprising Harry, intervened empathetically. "We shall do what we can to make this simple for you." He flipped open the white folder laying on his desk. "This is your personal file for your business here at Gringotts. Madam Bones, I shall be focusing my explanation of this for Mr. Potter's convenience. Please do not feel offended as if I would ignore someone of your stature-"

"I understand, Heavyfist."

"Anyway, Mr. Potter, this file is separate from the Noble House Potter's file. We keep individual files on the Heads of Houses, and their heirs, as well as anyone who opens a personal account, within the family. However, the reason we are here today is a little more complex than signing forms and the recognition of a change in guardianship. Now, I promise I won't be long. However, you must understand the precarious situation the world has been in since the downfall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. You seem to not know your role in this. For that, Madam Bones, on the behalf of Gringotts, I must warn you the dangers of this pathway. He must know the impact he had on the world. His role affects every single individual in the world," Heavyfist paused to breathe. "We do not normally take a side in the conflicts of wizards, but we must be vigilant now. Harry Potter, you know of your title?"

"Now, you have no right to discuss this with him," Amelia argued, more assertive than Harry had yet to witness. "We have discussed this with his Healer. His core must strengthen before he is ready to handle this burden!"

"And how do you propose to strengthen his magical core? Exercise, potion regimens, and every other spell treatment has not shown to improve an individual's magical core like confronting what troubles the soul-"

"I'm sorry, Heavyfist, are you a Master of Mind Magic or a Master of Finance?" Amelia bluntly asked. "I don't see why you think you get to decide what this child will be exposed to and when."

Heavyfist, who Harry thought would backtrack, dug in. "Why do you think the same for yourself, Madam Bones?" His quiet question left her a bit flabbergasted. "I apologize for the ruse, but I am trying to make a point. Keltar and Grobben do more than guard the front door, and they recognized his ignorance almost immediately. Madam Bones. Now is the time to tell him."

Harry's head swiveled back and forth, intently watching the intellectual tennis game. He rested on Amelia, who had reddened around the nape of her neck.

"Amelia…" He said as equally quiet as Heavyfist. "I want to know what happened to my parents."

Heavyfist smiled sadly, unflinchingly staring into Amelia's eyes.

"Harry, Healer Greengrass was very clear that you were not ready to bear-" Amelia began.

"But it seems a higher power believes I am, in fact, ready to bear this reality," Harry said with an air to his voice. Not an arrogant air, but one that came from seeing a truth and yearning to grapple with the consequences. One might call that bravery.

Amelia and Heavyfist could not ignore the profoundness of that moment.

"I believe that you are correct, Harry," Amelia admitted. She took a deep breath and nodded to Heavyfist. "It seems Professor Dumbledore was correct. We should get you a copy of _The Rise and Fall of The Dark Arts._ In the meantime, I will do my best to explain what has led you here. A man named Thomas Riddle, a recent graduate of Hogwarts and a prospect in many fields of study for potential apprenticeships, began what I can only describe as a holocaust. Or, he intended on carrying out a holocaust on muggleborns, and more broadly, muggles in general. He believed that those of us with magic were superior to muggles, and that muggleborns were unnatural in that dichotomous perspective. I'm not entirely sure when he began recruiting others towards his cause. Although, it did not take long to convince a great number of witches and wizards."

Amelia paused to breathe and calm herself down. Heavyfist took this as a chance to pick up the story, with her approving nod.

"Riddle began working for Burke at Borgin and Burkes, a shop down Knockturn Alley, just after graduating from Hogwarts. I only know this from my encounters with him while their business held an account at Gringotts. He was… well you will read about the type of man he was, and the monster he inevitably became. Although the Kingdom of Ragnar suffered little under Riddle's terror, we were by no means equal in his eyes," Heavyfist clicked his tongue between his jagged teeth. "And we could go on about every evil act he and his followers did… but this does nothing to explain what you want. Your parents were…"

"Brave," Amelia said defiantly. "They were driven. They were awe inspiring. They were good." She paused again. "Some would say they were the ideal that we should strive to be. They vocally resisted his power, and participated in actively fighting his legions. Your mother was working on her Healer Apprenticeship beginning her Seventh Year at Hogwarts, which was unheard of at the time. Your father was a fresh Auror at the Ministry, a dark wizard catcher. He completed his apprenticeship with Alastor Moody at 19, and was on the job for a year before… Before the first of many assassination attempts on his life. He was a powerful public speaker, leader, and, above all, friend. This lead to great influence in the Wizengamot, or our form of parliament, where he actively denounced Riddle and his followers. We suspect that was what drove Riddle to…"

"To murder them," answered Harry. Amelia nodded. "So, why am I the Boy-Who-Lived?" The innocent question sent Amelia and Heavyfist into a short, but deep, laughter. "I'm guessing He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would be wondering the same thing, huh?"

"As is the entirety of Wizarding Britain, Harry Potter," Heavyfist said. "I should say the rest of the Wizarding World, but they have their own demons to wrestle with."

Harry found himself in his field, falling backwards and bouncing among the plains. Although now, he saw Vernon sauntering about, pulling chamomile and ferns out with an empty mischief about his face. Eventually Vernon faded into small bits and pieces, and floated off toward the brazen sun. Harry gained his bearings, and for the first time, a flash of green lightning struck down from the cloudless sky.

"Harry."

Harry rapidly jumped up from his position on Heavyfist's love seat. His forehead drenched in sweat and his heart thudding.

"How long?" Harry asked.

"Less than a minute," Amelia informed, concern laced in her voice. "I knew it was a mistake-"

"It wasn't a mistake," Harry said, shaking his head. "The green light I have been dreaming, it wasn't the intersection light was it?" Amelia shook her head, while Heavyfist poured a glass of water for Harry. "I guess I am okay not knowing the full detail, but where do we go from here? I'm essentially the savior for the Wizarding World… but I didn't do a thing? I hardly remember anything!"

"And maybe that is what the people need to hear," Heavyfist suggested.

"We need not discuss politics at this time, Heavyfist. I would say it is prudent for us to go about our business, we still have plenty to accomplish for the day," Amelia curtly countered. Heavyfist bowed his head, having said his piece. "Now, what forms shall I sign?"

Harry, still adjusting to the news, tried his best to follow along. Heavyfist had Amelia sign a number of forms to authorize her temporary supervision of Harry's personal finances. This would give her the responsibility of teaching Harry, managing his trust account until he was of proper age, and handling any conflicts that might arise. These forms would need to be changed if Harry decided to change to a different guardian.

"Your trust vault is replenished to a maximum of 5,000 Galleons each year from the family vault. Now, as Madam Bones will tell you, that does not mean you have 5,000 Galleons to spend," Heavyfist explained with a bemused smile, given the circumstance. He picked up a paper weight from his desk and touched a small coin embedded on the top. "My assistant will show you to your vault, unless you have any questions that I can answer."

Harry shook his head silently, finishing his glass of water.

"Well, I thank you for your time," Heavyfist concluded. Harry stood and put his hand out. Heavyfist also stood, still two feet shorter than Harry, and shook his hand from across the coffee table. The door to the hallway swung open and another goblin entered. He was much younger than Heavyfist, as far as Harry could tell. He wore a suit, but one clearly not as expensive as his superior's suit. He had very similar physical complexion as Heavyfist, but Griphook did not have the kind face that Heavyfist surprisingly could show. "Griphook, please take Mr. Potter and Madam Bones to their vaults on request. Have a good day, Madam Bones. Mr. Potter, good luck."

Back in the Entrance Hall of Gringotts, Harry and Amelia followed Griphook silently to the cart bay. Without a hassle, they climbed into an open cart and were on their way. Amelia had her wand out and flicked it at Harry. He felt his body solidly lock onto the seat of the cart. A pang of adrenaline hit Harry down the spine. Griphook had let them sit facing forward, which helped with Harry's anxiety but also set in a certain amount of fear from chasing the unknown. They twisted and turned and dropped deeper in the darkness. Torches had been placed along the walls, but some sections of the track were pitch black.

"We only need to go to Mr. Potter's vault, Griphook!" Amelia shouted over the wind whipping past the cart as it flew up and down the rails.

Griphook grunted his response.

After delving more stories down than Harry anticipated, they screeched to a halt.

"Which one is mine?" Harry looked between the two vaults to his left. Each were massive, intricately webbed bands of metal. The locking system made Harry's knees weak just trying to find what might actually unlock the door. The door's frame was ancient stone that made up part of the foundation of Gringotts.

"Vault 687," Griphook grumbled. He lifted his hands to point each of his fingers at the top of the door. He slowly lowered his hands to the base of the door, all the while the locks slid and clicked open. The massive metal door, when completely unlocked, opened a mere inch, and a crumble of dust from the edge where the door met frame fell to the ground. "Here you are, Mr. Potter."

Griphook pulled his hand back, and the door flew wide open. Harry gasped and found Amelia with bulging eyes. Five neat pyramids of golden coins sat at the forefront of a relatively small room. The stacks stood up to about Harry's waist and were as wide as he was tall.

"This is all mine?" Harry asked scrupulously. "How much should I take for my equipment and books?"

Amelia bobbed her head back and forth. "I'd say a 200 galleons will hold you over for awhile. I am unsure of when we shall return to get more gold… so this will last you until next year," Amelia informed. "Griphook, you wouldn't happen to have a bag, would you?"

"Ten sickles for a regular bag, a galleon for an enchanted," Griphook said, wandering with his little legs to the cart. Harry grabbed one of his galleons from his vault and met Griphook at the cart, and handed him the money. Griphook tossed him a rather plain looking sack, with a Gringotts' logo at its center.

"What's enchanted about this?" Harry asked, only to elicit a cynical snort from Griphook.

"It has a featherweight rune and expansive rune worked into the fabric. The inside can usually hold between nine or 10 thousand galleons, while only weighing ounces," Amelia answered as Harry filled his bag. "That should be enough, let's get going."

One cart ride later, Harry stood in the Entrance Hall with a dizzy head and a spring in his step. He had never had a pound to his name, let alone 5,000! Grobben and Keltar stood at attention by the doors, watching Amelia and Harry pass through with lingering interest. Harry turned and thanked them for their help once again, only to receive simultaneous nods in response.

"Would you like to go to Flourish and Blotts, Harry? The bookstore that you were seemingly possessed with," Amelia asked once they were back out in Diagon Alley. The weekend traffic of Diagon Alley had picked up immensely, scores of witches and wizards meandered about. They was a surprising mix of people dressed in muggle clothes amongst the robe wearing traditionalists. "Harry?"

"Ah, yeah I mean… could we get a wand first?" Harry asked. "Books are great, but I have this feeling."

"That is a great place to start. Follow me, and stay close." Amelia led him down the alley, creating a wedge in the stream of consumers. People made an effort to get out of Amelia's way. She abruptly stopped and turned towards an inconspicuous shop. It was a narrow, tall building, jutting up into the sky nearly as tall as Gringotts. A small sign above the door read _Ollivander's Wand Shop_ in peeling, golden letters. The dusty display window had a lone wand out, sitting on a purple cushion. "After you."

Harry pushed the door open and creeped inside. The creaking door swung closed behind Amelia. The tiny shop had thin boxes stacked from wall to ceiling. The front desk had a tiny bell glittering amongst piles of boxes. Amelia strode up and tapped it once.

"I wondered when you might return, Madam Bones," a whisper of a voice danced from the shadows. A tall, wiry figure drifted from between two of the tall wand cases. He had bright, "Your most recent purchase was a… 12 and three-quarter inches long, unbending Red Oak… with a dragon heartstring core. Perfect for the combative needs of the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

Amelia bowed her head slightly, pulling a different wand out from the sleeve of her robes. This is the wand she used when Mundungus threatened them, but she had used a different wand to stick Harry's bottom to the seat of the cart.

"People have more than one wand?" Harry asked.

"People have more than one role in life, do they not?" The old man rhetorically asked. "I am Garrick Ollivander. I presume you are the famed Harry Potter." Harry nodded. "Well, I am pleased that you have chosen my family's establishment for your first wand. Madam Bones has returned four times now since her first wand, is that accurate?"

"That is correct, as always, Mr. Ollivander. The second time was my Fifth Year of Hogwarts, when I broke my wand dueling in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Then the Auror program requires the need for two wands specialized for dueling and for potioneering. And my last was for my role as Head of a department. I am sure I am on the low-end of wand counts, in regards to my fellow Heads at the Ministry."

"That you are, Madam Bones. Any-who, Mr. Potter, if you will allow…" He waved his own wand at Harry. Three measuring tapes flew around Harry, measuring everything from the width of his index finger to the circumference of his head.

"Does that do anything, or is that just for show?" Harry asked, eliciting a snort from Amelia.

"A little bit of both," Mr. Ollivander said with a smile. He looked over the measurements, and pulled a seemingly random box from the shelf next to his desk. "Try this one."

Harry opened the box to find a relatively plain looking stick within. He picked it up, and felt about as much as he would picking up a stick in the street.

"Just as I thought," Mr. Ollivander said. He handed another box to Harry, this time with more of an explanation. "Elm, ten inches, springy, with a unicorn tail hair core."

Harry picked this one up and felt a slight tingle, but didn't make a connection.

"Ah, of course not. What was I thinking?" Mr. Ollivander asked. Harry took the chance to glance at Amelia, who had a wide smile on her face as she leaned against the wall. "Here, this one… Ash, 14 inches, brittle, but the dragon heartstring provides more stability in the wand's balance."

Harry felt less with this wand than he did the last.

And this continued until Harry's arm was sore from swishing and poking and sweeping with the various wands per Mr. Ollivander's instruction.

"Mm, you are a most peculiar case, young Mr. Potter," Mr. Ollivander said. He absentmindedly tapped his wand on his desk. He nodded to himself before going to the back of his shop. When he returned, he carried wand box, and a weight on his shoulders. "I must warn you, I was tempted to give this wand to you when you first walked in the door. Now, I am almost sure this is the one."

Harry opened the box to reveal a long wand with a peculiar handle on it.

"Made of Holly, 11 inches long, and contains a phoenix feather," Mr. Ollivander listed. "A phoenix is an interesting creature. Not only are they bound to a single wizard or witch until that individual's death, but they are not prone to give a feather for anyone but that magical person. This wand has a very… interesting history. If you will…"

Harry picked the wand up by its handle and immediately noticed the difference from the other wands. He felt the power in the wand as separate from his own. He felt the tingle up his forearm and to his chest, but it did not center there. It ran up his spine and pooled at his forehead, directly where is scar was.

"Give it a wave," Mr. Ollivander, a sad excitement in his eye, said.

Harry lifted the wand, but with it came a great weight.

"It doesn't… I don't think it wants me to, honestly. I don't know why I think that." Harry put the wand back in the box, and gently set it on the desk. He looked at Amelia, who had previously lost interest with every wand. But now, she had a curious look about her. "It felt like that night. The night I first learned I was a wizard. I don't know if that means anything to you," He said directed at Mr. Ollivander. "I wasn't told I was a wizard by my, erm, muggle relatives. They don't like magic so much, you see. So, when I learned I guess I had a uh. What do you call it?"

"Outburst of magic?" Supplied Mr. Ollivander. Harry nodded. "So you didn't feel anything else with the wand? You didn't have a connection at all?"

"Well, I wouldn't say that. It felt familiar, but distant. I'm not sure, its energy felt centered in my head. Is that where it is supposed to reside?" Harry asked. Mr. Ollivander shook his head no.

"Our magical cores are centered in our chests," Mr. Ollivander explained. "Some theorize that our magic stems from our brains, but there is very little evidence to support this. Occlumency and legilimency, which is quite beyond your age, hint that we might be able to access our cores through our minds, but that does not mean our cores reside in our minds," he rubbed his chin. "You see, this wand's core has a brother. It does not surprise me that it has some sort of connection to your head, seeing as its brother gave you that scar."

Harry couldn't move. He felt his knees weaken, and his mind slipped into his field once again. Green lightning struck rapidly, now coming from dark storm clouds above his flowers. He ran from the storm, which sparked a wild green fire in the grass. He took a breath in his mind, and the lightning nearly stopped. The sun peaked through the clouds, and he took another breath. Eventually the storm faded, and the fire receded. Finally, the lighting continued on the horizon, but he returned to reality with a clear mind.

"Harry-"

"It seems you have some training in Occlumency," Mr. Ollivander said. "I could feel the emotion from you, lad. It is vital you continue on this path of self control, and at your age… I have an idea."

He slipped away from the desk to the back of his shop, once again.

"Why would he try to sell me that wand?" Harry asked Amelia.

"I'm not completely sure, but I worry this day is unnecessarily stressing you out," Amelia admitted. "Perhaps we should buy your wand, and return another day for the rest of your supplies."

Harry adamantly shook his head no. "I'm fine. I just didn't anticipate that would happen."

"Unless you are 'blessed' with The Sight," Amelia said, "you will not be able to anticipate what might force you into your mental defenses."

Harry didn't have a good argument against that, primarily because he wasn't aware of what 'The Sight' was. Luckily, Mr. Ollivander returned with a wooden box and grin on his face.

"Now, Mr. Potter, this wand is one that I have not tried on a customer in some time. Rarely has anyone had this much difficulty in choosing a wand. I do not mean to offend, be sure of that. Now, this wand was created by my great-grandfather, Augustus. It has a dual nature, in that there are two types of wood and two cores. At 14 inches long, it is at the higher end of the common lengths of wands. The white wood is aspen, infused with manticore poison. The black wood is Ebony, and contains a phoenix feather. It is a gracefully supple wand. Now, I have never attempted a wand such as this. You may find it is drawn towards a fight, but only if it senses you have been wronged. Here, give it a go."

Harry opened the box to reveal a strange wand. It had eight inches of spiraling wood in a helix of sorts. Black and white wood spun down the length of the wand to its handle. While being slightly thicker, the handle had six inches of both woods melded into one another in a parallel fashion. The base came to a sharp point, but the majority of the handle was rounded.

Harry picked up the wand. The rush of power vibrated his palm and sent reverbs up through his elbow and resonated in his chest. From there, it filled the rest of his body with a ring of vigor. The wand shot out golden and silver fireworks, flying a few feet and exploding, filling the room with light.

"Ah-ha! There it is, Mr. Potter. The usual price is seven galleons, but with the rarity of the materials and the age of the wand… I must ask for 14 galleons, but I will also provide a sheath with inscribed anti-summoning runes," Mr. Ollivander explained. Harry looked to Amelia for guidance.

"That is a fair trade, especially after the show you produced with your wand," Amelia said with a smirk. "Mr. Ollivander, thank you, as always."

Harry pulled the Galleons from his bag and set them on the desk. "Thank you for taking the time, Mr. Ollivander. I'm clearly not the easiest customer-"

"Ah, the difficult customers are the ones I keep my eye on, Mr. Potter," Mr. Ollivander interrupted. "Have a good day!"

"You as well, Mr. Ollivander," Harry said. He took his wand and sheath, and turned to Amelia. "Sorry for the wait, there."

"Oh, you are quite the showman," Amelia said. She nodded to Mr. Ollivander and led Harry out.

Without a word, she brought them around to the trunk shop at the end of the street. She negotiated with the shop keep as Harry read the plaques surrounding the other trunks. Some had complex charms and rune combinations which expands the interior in a various ways. Some were anti-summoned runed in addition to these expansions. The trunks could be constructed in anyway on the inside, and Harry found this inexplicably unbelievable. He learned in _Magical Theory_ that to begin to understand magic, the muggle born individual must lose their muggle perception of magic.

This meant not automatically seeing a new or deeper understanding of magic as mind-boggling. For people raised in a magical household, some of these things would be everyday aspects of their life. It would be strange to point such things out as if it was newly discovered. The first chapter of the book was often skipped, but it provided hints into how to introduce new wizards and witches to the culture.

"Harry, your bag please?" Amelia asked. Harry gave her the bag, wherein she pulled out nearly a 50 galleons. "Don't be alarmed, you will use this trunk for at least the next seven years. I have my first trunk in my office, so you know."

"Oh, I'm not worried," Harry replied calmly. He felt his wand in his pocket, and couldn't complain. The sheath allowed Harry to put his wand in his pocket, regardless of its length. The standard wand sheath could expand to the length of the wand, but then could also safely shrink the wand to three inches long. It had the same circumference of the wand, but allowed for easy access in their pockets or around their belts. "I would like to buy books next, if at all possible."

"We're going to do clothes, then potions, and then books," Amelia said. "Any arguments to convince me to do otherwise?"

Harry threw his head up slightly, and felt a new game had been commenced. "What's your reasoning?" Harry asked. They took the trunk off the counter and went on their way. Harry's trunk was the standard, single compartment trunk issued to all first years students. The single compartment had an expanding rune that made the one compartment able to hold about three times its physical capacity. It was made of a fine maple wood with gold clasps and corner pieces.

Harry thanked the shop keep as they left the shop as Amelia thought about her answer.

"Well, I think you will most enjoy the bookshop. It will be a nice end to our trip," Amelia answered as they walked towards a clothes shop. "Would you disagree?"

Harry shook his head with a smile. "No, I agree," Harry said. "Why do you do that?"

"Why do I do what?" Amelia asked as they entered. A fair-haired woman in "Hello, we're here for Hogwarts uniforms, recreational, athletic, and formal clothes." The shop assistant was a dainty, middle-aged woman in seemingly fashionable robes. She nodded and directed them to a side room. A small stool stood in the center.

"Up here, lad," The lady said. She had her dark hair pulled up into a ponytail Streaks of gray running around the sides of her left ear. She had soft brown eyes that eyed his dimensions. "What House do you want to join?"

Harry remembered reading about the different Houses and their founders in _A History of Magic,_ by Bathlida Bagshot. "Well, I'm not entirely sure. There are pros and cons to every House," Harry paused as few rolls of measuring tape once against flew around his body as the shop assistant took notes. "Gryffindor bravery, yet that could breed foolishness. Ravenclaw intellect, but where's the adventure? Hufflepuffs are kind, but that could bite them. Slytherin's ambition could turn to greed and unnecessary conflict."

The shop assistant didn't respond, but looked at Amelia who held a grin on her lips. "So I'd have to say," Harry continued. "Ravenclaw would be where I found like-minded people. Gryffindor would be good for finding people who were looking for danger. Hufflepuff ideally for loyal companions. And Slytherin for their relative hopefulness for their own future, which might be able to foster my own goal setting." He paused as the shop assistant had a short spurt of annoyance dance on her face. "I'm not sure, honestly… I think I could manage in any- ouch," the measuring tape became tight around his wrists for only a moment, and then released. "In any of the houses."

"You will learn, lad," the assistant said absently. Harry wondered what she meant, but she drifted off to the back room without another word.

"Why do I do what, Harry?" Amelia asked once again.

"Ask me to argue with you," Harry answered. "I mean, I appreciate that you want my input, but I just don't really… I don't get it. My ah, relatives, never really ask for Dudley's arguments, they kind of just do whatever he wants. And they do the exact opposite with me."

"So what's the logical conclusion?" Amelia asked.

Harry thought for a moment. "Well, honestly, the first thought that I had was that you might want to give me the illusion of having a say in what we do…" Harry laughed at this. "But that doesn't really fit with you, ya know? I guess you want me to think about why you might choose to do something differently than I might."

"Spot on," Amelia said with a nod. "And if you convince me otherwise, we'll do things your way. Is that fair for you?"

Harry nodded as the assistant returned.

"Do you have any preferences for your non-school clothes? We have quite a wide range of clothing," she offered. Harry could only shrug.

"I'm not… used to picking my own clothes. I don't really know what's in style, or for that matter, what is in style for wizards," Harry admitted. "I assume you know what's fashionable-"

"Why don't you give me a couple color schemes that you might enjoy, and I'll see what I can do," the assistant interrupted.

And so after about a half an hour of back and forth, Harry and Amelia stood at the front desk. Harry's school clothes and more than two dozen outfits consisting of finely made dress robes, athletic muggle clothes, dark jeans, button down shirts, t-shirts, two new pairs of sneakers, underwear, socks, and pajamas.

"Ollie," Amelia said to no one in particular. Immediately, the house elf 'popped' next to Harry. "Could you take these packages and put them in Harry's closet?"

"Of course, Madam Bones," Ollie snapped his fingers and disappeared with the packages.

"Convenient," Harry noted. Amelia winked at him.

"That will be 45 galleons and two sickles," the assistant totaled up. Harry put his bag on the counter. Amelia swished her wand at it, and 46 galleons flew out and arranged themselves into a neat stack on the counter.

"Keep the change," Harry offered. "Thank you for all of your help!"

"Oh that is generous of you, Mr. Potter," The assistant gushed. Harry didn't remember telling her his name, but nodded regardless.

After a quick stop at the potions shop, and another relatively heft purchase of the needed ingredients and the standard pewter cauldron, the duo made their way towards Flourish and Blotts.

"Are House Elves common in every home? I cannot imagine shopping and carrying around everything we bought," Harry wondered as they neared the entrance to the bookstore.

"Most of the Ancient and Noble Houses have had House Elves for generations. It becomes more rare as newer houses grow, and most of the less-than-well-off families don't have any," Amelia informed, holding the door open for Harry. "Now, you have about sixty galleons left. I want you to hold on to at least twenty galleons, so get as many books as you'd like within those parameters, understood?"

"Yes ma'am," Harry saluted. The bookstore had a larger number of shoppers than the other stores. A few shop keeps wandered about, organizing books and helping customers find their books.

Harry found the required texts rather quickly, and after totaling how much that would cost him, found that he would have 35 galleons to buy his own collection.

"Ah, Amelia, I don't really know where to begin," Harry admitted. "Should I get the book Headmaster Dumbledore was talking about?"

Amelia paused for a moment, then nodded. "Let's start with the Defense section," she led him to a section of books on the second floor. "Ha, I remember these," She pulled two books from the shelf. " _A Beginner's Guide to Shield Spells_ , by Quentin Trimble and _A Study of Jinxes,_ by Adroch Povilich. These are great places to begin to supplement your Defense class's textbook." Harry found _The Rise and Fall of The Dark Arts,_ Masedus Riverdere a few feet to the right of these books.

By the time they were done, they had a stack of books that reached Harry's knees. Among them were: _Charmed Charms, An Analysis of Modern Charmwork,_ by Fillius Flitwick; _Transfixed Transfiguration,_ by Mathius Moodsend; _Magical Theory: God or Nature?_ by Adalbert Waffling; _Potions, Who Needs Them?_ By Horace Slughorn; _A History of Magical Britain_ , by Bathilda Bagshot with Cornelius Fudge.

"I would buy more," Harry said to Amelia at the checkout. "But this seems like enough to dig into for the year, right?"

Amelia snorted.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Just wait until you see Hogwart's Library," Amelia said with a smirk. "I'm sure you'll have a field day."

Over the next two days, Harry spent the majority of time in his library. He took his lunches there, as Amelia forced him to come out of his tower for dinner. Unlike the previous books that Amelia had given him, he spent his time going through _The Rise and Fall of The Dark Arts,_ taking thorough notes and looking for any inconsistencies. Riverdere started the book by examining the nature of Dark Arts, and what it meant to practice them. From his analysis, Harry concluded that a practitioner must sacrifice part of themselves in order to maximize the potency of this branch of magic. What part they had to sacrifice was not as obviously described in the book as Harry might have wished. The message of the first few chapters warned that many who fell to complete darkness rarely came back from the depths that they inevitably met.

The book began by describing how a dark lord named Gellert Grindlewald was behind the majority of conflicts during the Second World War. His influence, and domination over, muggles like Adolf Hitler, Benito Mussolini, Hirohito, and Mao Zedong led to the inevitable instability of the muggle's global powers. His intent was to usher in a revolution that would put Wizards and Witches in a place to 'save' them from their own demise, acting as their 'benevolent overlords' 'For the Greater Good.' This brought horrendous suffering, xenophobic genocide, and general terror to the world.

And then came in Albus Dumbledore.

According to Riverdere, Dumbledore was responsible for the unification of European and USA's magical alliance to bring Grindlewald's movement to an end. Dumbledore and his forces defeated the majority of Grindlewald's forces at his fortress Nurmengard. In one of most violent and famous duels in recorded history, Dumbledore spared Grindlewald's life, and trapped him in his own prison. Members of 'Dumbledore's Guard,' as they were colloquially known, would recount how they fled from the Nurmengard once the duel commenced, lest they be hit by flying debris and spells that seemed to come from a tornado of energy surrounding the monstrous fortress.

And so there was peace and rebuilding. This conflict caused the Ministry of Magic to increase their relations with their muggle counterparts. The President of the United States, Prime Ministers of Britain, and the Queen would have diplomatic relations and security clearance to know of the existence of the Wizarding world. In return, the magical world would promise to protect muggles from any future conflicts between worlds.

At dinner that night, Harry was quiet. The previous day, he had been full of questions about anything from wizard law to the houses at Hogwarts. Amelia noticed the difference.

"So, you've learned why we hide from muggles?" Amelia asked solemnly, cutting into her steak.

"To protect them," Harry answered, picking at his peas. He rubbed his forehead, avoiding his scar. "But are we? Do they not deserve to learn about us?"

"Learn? Perhaps, and perhaps there are muggles interested in our culture… but why do you think Adolf Hitler hated Jews- well, anyone who wasn't Aryan?" Amelia asked. Harry met her eyes. "Well, one psychological analysis would be that he was highly orderly and was obsessed with cleanliness. He described the Jewish people as rats. As vermin, meant to be exterminated. Why? Of course he wanted power for himself, but according to all scholars, he was not under the Imperius Curse. Do you think he might have felt weak after seeing the power Grindlewald was capable of displaying? The Axis leaders were often present at Grindlewald's executions. They did not revere him, as our people did Dumbledore. They feared that he would turn on them, and so they did his bidding. Riverdere describes that the only recorded written communication between Grindlewald and his muggle comrades was a short message-"

"'Chaos,'" Harry quoted. "'That is your end game, that is your purpose. There will be no order, unless I decree order. There will be no peace, unless I decree peace. You live, and that is my gift to you. Worry not, for my companions will see the dawn of a new age. An age that of which propels us as nature intended. Wizard above man.'"

Amelia's concerned gaze lingered long enough for Harry to return to his food.

"This is not too heavy for you to bear, is it?" Amelia asked. Harry shook his head, as she expected he would. "Harry, this is not your issue to fix. You are eleven. You are meant to care about quidditch, about studying, about-"

"It is my burden," Harry adamantly argued. He set his dining utensils down and laughed a hallow laugh. "It is mine. It is your's. It is all of our burden to bear, but somehow it didn't seem like it when we were in Diagon Alley. People just walked around shopping, laughing. Like all of those lives didn't matter-"

"Stop, Harry. You are not to blame for Grindlewald, or Voldemort, or any of the other evil people in the world," Amelia admonished. "How many muggles did you kill? Did you herd muggles into gas chambers? Did you believe yourself so capable of ruling the world that you were willing to see everything humans have built together burn down, only because it did not fit your prescription for the world's so-called ailments?"

Harry bit his tongue.

"Well? No, of course you didn't. You are capable of recognizing the horror that is human history. That alone is enough to ensure you will not repeat it, no? That is the history lesson that you might never learn in class. We stand on the shoulders of giants, and we must keep the balance. Do you know what culture shock is?"

"I'm currently in it, aren't I?" Harry asked, sipping his milk.

"We all are. Every minute you learn something that shifts what you 'knew' to be true. Every minute you question the history you have been taught. Every minute your perspective widens, it shocks your system, and that is called learning," Amelia said. She pierced a portion of her steak and popped it into her mouth. She chewed thoroughly and swallowed. "Voldemort was not as successful as Grindlewald, by all measures, because of two things." She took a sip of her wine. "For one, he was obsessed with causing chaos, with no vision of how the world would look after. And two, he was so conceited and self-righteous, his own ego bested him."

Harry was silent again.

"So what do we do now?" Harry quietly asked.

"We do our best to make sure people like him, people like Grindlewald, and all of their cronies, are brought to justice. Ideally, early enough where the damage to society is minimal, and their influence mocked," Amelia said. She finished her meal, and sat back, watching Harry scoop mashed potatoes in his mouth. "We learn, we grow, and we do not tolerate ideologies that put one person above another."

"So, Voldemort's beliefs are against the law?" Harry asked. Amelia shook her head no. "Well, if we are trying to stop people from being like him, wouldn't it make sense to make it illegal to be prejudiced against muggles and muggle-born people?"

"At what rate would that stop those who believe these things? Criminals are, in fact, prone to not caring about the law," Amelia countered.

"So why have law? Isn't the point to discourage the use of illegal spells… or at least create a moral standard for society?"

"Ideally," Amelia agreed. "But there is a considerable number of Houses in the Wizengamot that would view anti-muggle discrimination as being anti-pureblood motivation."

"As if being Pureblood is in contrast with treating everyone equally?" Harry asked.

"The older traditions, and the harm muggles have done in the past, make these sentiments difficult to argue without a coalition of like-minded families. Unfortunately, your father was the last member of the Wizengamot to introduce any sort of legislation the likes of which we are discussing. Since his murder, ah, it is unlikely we will see any Heads of House risk their lives, and at the very least, reputation, for the handful of muggleborns the laws would protect."

Harry laughed bitterly.

"I do hope," Amelia continued. "That you do not develop a cynical view of our society from the wretchedness that is politics. Headmaster Dumbledore, all things considered, is adamantly supporting muggle and muggleborn rights. He actively searches for muggleborn people to bring to Hogwarts. He has done a great deal to compensate for the atrocities of other magical people."

Harry nodded, but a thought stood out to him, one he was nervous to ask about.

"You seem to, ah, have an issue with him…" Harry mentioned.

"Unfortunately, we have different philosophies regarding certain aspects of politics and education," Amelia admitted. "Our relationship exists in a matrix of roles, positions, and responsibilities that are separate from our own individual beings."

"That sounds like an obfuscated answer," Harry said, eliciting a snort from Amelia. "I hope I didn't pry, I don't mean to be nosy."

"That is quite alright, Harry. I will go more in-depth when I believe you are ready for it. And as this conversation has meandered… we have discussed some of the darkest aspects of wizard history, so I am inclined to keep some things from you."

"I understand that," Harry accepted. Monty popped in beside the table, and the meal's dishes disappeared from the table with a snap of his fingers.

"Would you care for dessert, Madam Amelia, Master Harry?" Monty asked.

"I'd say ice cream is in order," Amelia nodded. Monty bowed to both of them before popping away. Almost immediately, two big bowls of vanilla ice cream faded into existence in front of Amelia and Harry. An accouterment of ingredients joined the table, all the makings for an Ice Cream Sunday. Harry poured chocolate syrup, strawberries, and whip cream over his, while Amelia went for a only a moderate amount of chocolate syrup. "So, I assume you haven't reached the point in the book where he discusses Voldemort."

Harry shook his head no, his mouth preoccupied with the heavenliness of his treat.

"I will warn you, Riverdere goes in-depth about Voldemort's motivation for attacking your family… and about you," Amelia said between spoonfuls.

"How?" Harry asked, nearly choking on his spoon. "I've never been interviewed."

"Speculations, mostly. However, his book is, in my opinion, the reason why you have been dubbed 'The-Boy-Who-Lived,'" Amelia continued to watch him carefully as she spoke. "Do with that what you will. Lesser men are defined by greater, making a name for yourself is essential to breaking out of others' definitions."

Harry took in every word, while continuously spooning ice cream in his mouth.

"Anyway, tomorrow I will be having my brother's family over," Amelia paused to take a sip of her wine. "His name is Allan. His wife is Zelia née Hawkworth. Their daughter is named Susan. She is your age and will be joining you at Hogwarts this year."

"Do you have any other siblings?" Harry asked, finishing his bowl.

Amelia looked thoughtfully at her wine glass, swirled it around a bit, before emptying the contents.

"I _had_ another brother and sister, ah, before Voldemort killed them," Amelia said, not meeting Harry's eyes. "Edgar and Susan."

Harry bit his lip and waited until she looked at him.

"I'm sorry, Amelia. I didn't mean-"

"I know you didn't, Harry," Amelia stopped him. She stood and began walking toward the door. "We can discuss this at another time, if you wish. I think I am going to turn in. Please try not to stay up too late reading. Goodnight, Harry."

A/N

Hey all, thanks for following along! I hope the exposition wasn't too boring, but I felt like I needed to cover some of the bases to plant seeds for Harry's future. Don't be alarmed! The Holly Wand will still play a role in this story! Happy New Year everyone!

AB


	5. Chapter Four: All Sorts of Trouble

A/N- Hey guys! I appreciate your reviews and perspectives. I hope I address some of your concerns as we move through the plot. As always, I own nothing and profit only from you guys enjoying my work.

Also, thank you to nsaifnabi for the quick catch.

On with the show.

AB

Chapter Four: All Sorts of Trouble

"Master Harry, Madam Amelia and her guests are waiting in the Family Hall for you," Ollie informed, popping in beside Harry in his library. Harry glanced at the clock and found it quarter past six.

"Gah, shoot. Could you tell them that I'll be right down?" Harry asked. Ollie nodded and promptly popped away. "Damn it all to hell." He ran up the stairs to his closet, threw on his dress robes, and ran out of his tower. By the time he reached the Family Hall doors, he had a sharp pain in his chest, forcing out short, shallow breaths. After a few minutes of leaning against the nearest post, he regained his composure, and entered the Family Hall.

Amelia sat at the head position of the dinner table, with three guests dressed in their best sitting with her. A woman a head taller than Amelia sat to her left. She wore a shoulder-less, purple dress with black gloves that came to her elbows. She had dark brown eyes that matched her hair. She watched Harry intently as he crossed the hall. Harry couldn't help but stare back at her.

He nearly didn't notice her husband sitting on Amelia's right. He was balding, but for the thin wisps of hair on the sides of his head. He wore a heavy, black trench coat over a navy-blue dress shirt. A long scar ran from his left jaw to his chin. Although his head primarily focused at his empty plate, his eyes glanced up once to analyze Harry, and then dipped back down.

"Harry, nice of you to join us," Amelia said as he found his seat. Next to his right sat the young Susan. She wore her long, bright red hair up in a loose bun, contrasting nicely with her pale, aggressively freckled neck and face. Her sunshine yellow summer dress elegantly flowed to her knees. She wore a long sleeved, black cardigan over her dress which Harry recognized as the Hufflepuff colors. "Harry?"

"Ah, uh, yeah, I'm sorry for being late. I lost track of time," Harry admitted with a slight blush. "I'm Harry Potter, pleasure to meet all of you."

"Likewise," the gruff voiced man said.

"Harry, this is my brother Allan and his wife Zelia, and their daughter Susan," Amelia introduced. Harry briefly smiled at the table before matching Allan and keeping his head ducked away. "We were just discussing Hogwarts Houses. Of course, I found my place in Hogwarts in Hufflepuff, as did Zelia. Allan, being the studious type, was as Ravenclaw as Rowena herself. Susan thinks she'll follow her mother with the badgers."

Harry sat for a moment before realizing she was asking a question. "Oh, well. I've been thinking about this since we were in Madam Malkin's shop…" Harry paused again to gather his thoughts. In the meantime, a bowl filled with corn chowder materialized on top of his plate. He took a sip from the goblet near his plate to find it filled to the brim with milk. "I could see myself doing well in Slytherin or Ravenclaw, but I'm ultimately not too concerned with my House."

"Slytherin, aye?" Allan asked, glancing at Amelia. "What'd ya do to the boy? Got his values all messed around." Amelia jabbed her elbow in a very unlady-like fashion into Allan's elbow. He snorted into his goblet. "I joke. All Houses are equal, and there is certainly no bias when it comes to the wizarding world about which House you belong."

Harry glanced at Zelia, who carried a smirk as elegantly as Amelia did.

"So Slytherin is a no go?" Harry asked, his left eye brow furrowed down.

"Don't listen to daddy," Susan said. "He's just a little…"

"Right?" Allan challenged. "Nine out of ten people we get into Azkaban come from Slytherin. No better predictor of a criminal than if they were in Slytherin or not."

"How many people get away with their crimes because the Auror Department only focuses on former Slytherin students?" Amelia asked in an overly polite manner.

"Har har," Allan rolling his eyes, returned to Harry. "I'm not saying everyone who goes into Slytherin becomes a criminal. Every so often, we get a dark wizard from one of the other houses. The common-place practices found in that house are much more tolerant of ah, archaic magic and beliefs." He ate a steaming spoonful of soup. "If you do find yourself in Slytherin, we won't disavow you… right away."

"Don't scare the boy," Zelia defended. "These Auror types are going to be suspicious of you regardless of what house you get into, don't think you are free from his paranoia if you join Gryffindor. Or if you marry them." Zelia smiled sweetly at her husband. "The current Minister for Magic is a Slytherin, have you nothing good to say about him?"

"No, Minister Fudge has been extremely helpful in capturing suspects as of late," Allan somehow made that sound sour. "Harry, Ravenclaw is a fine House. We are diligent toward knowledge and the pursuit of it. It sounds like you've been reading enough for the whole of Hufflepuff this summer. All I can say is, you will be swimming in Hogwarts' library. It is quite the sight, and largely donated by wizards and witches who once studied there."

"And from taxes, of course," Zelia commented. "Part of the sales tax in magical shops is allocated to restore, maintain, and help produce the books for the library."

"Zelia, must you speak of work at the moment?" Allan asked with a little giggle. He had kept drinking from an inordinate cup. One that seemed to never run dry. "We interviewed a number of wizards who were connected to an increase in illegal potions dealing," Allan dropped his spoon in his empty bowl. It disappeared, and two small buns popped out on a single plate, with a quarter stick of warm butter on the far side of Allan. He picked at the bread. "Only two had anything on them, but one of the guys was a chap in the Department of Magical Transportation. We got them all on either possession with intent, as well as misdemeanors for intent to purchase a controlled potion. Both previous snakes."

Harry listened intently, buttering his bread and eating as Allan spoke.

"Allan, don't you think the kids are too young to hear this sort-" Amelia began. She stopped as Allan gave her a known look.

"We don't need our kids living ignorant of what's happening in the world," Allan grumbled a tad. He ripped apart a bun and shoved it in his mouth. "They should be involved, to a certain degree. Kept in the loop means they have their eyes open," Allan explain a little more relaxed.

"Their eyes should be focused on school, Allan," Zelia glared down her husband. "Not what the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is up to doing."

"Why not both?" Harry asked with a twinge of a smile. "I think we can manage both roles, Susan?"

Susan met Harry's eyes with a grin.

"Of course, we can manage-"

"Perhaps, Auror Bones should remember his oath to keep ongoing investigations privy," Amelia interjected. "And perhaps Allan can join us for a lovely dinner instead."

"Aye, Madam Bones," Allan said with a shine of light in his dark eyes. "Amelia, pass the pepper, please."

The next course shimmered onto Harry's plate, and his goblet refilled with water. Harry began cutting into his chicken parmesan, enjoying the show before him. He had yet to see Amelia so… relaxed. He met eyes with Susan who shared a smirk with him.

"So, what is being an Auror like after the fall of Lord Voldemort?" Harry absently asked. He looked up in surprise as Zelia and Susan gasped and squeaked respectively. "Er, m'sorry." Harry swallowed the bite in his mouth. "I didn't mean-"

"Don't apologize, mate," Allan earnestly said. He forgot his meal, staring down Harry. The humor lost from his eyes, now filled with intense curiosity. He slowly put a piece of chicken in his mouth without looking and swallowed soundlessly. "I see you have been teaching him some values, eh Amelia?"

"I didn't have to teach him that, he doesn't understand why-"

"He," Harry interrupted with an unrecognized strength behind his voice, "is right here. I don't understand Lord Voldemort? Is that it?" Another round of reflexive gasps from Susan and Zelia.

"He's got some fight in him, for sure," Allan said, still staring at Harry. "What you might not understand, and that is by no means your fault, is the fear felt by the wizarding world during Lord Voldemort's," squeak, "reign of terror." Harry opened his mouth to protest. "Reading about it is no match for experiencing it first-hand. Now, what is surprising, after reading what you have, and knowing that wanker viciously murdered your parents-"

Harry's vision blurred, and he fell into his field. He saw the green lightning surrounding the field increase in repetition before looking down at his feet. The grass flowed with an invisible wind that Harry couldn't feel. He focused on one blade, which then stood up straight against its brothers' green waves. He took a deep breath, and he flew up into the sky and back into his seat.

"So, there it is," Allan quietly said. The room's atmosphere had shifted in the few seconds that Harry fell out of the conversation. "You were looking right at me but wouldn't respond."

"I ah, I slip into my Occlumency sometimes. I'm still trying to control it," Harry admitted with a blush. He avoided the ladies' stares, staying focused on Allan's look of genuine care.

"I suspect that might be a long road ahead of you, lad," Allan said. "Occlumency takes years of intense study to master, often quickened by a Master Legilimens. What is impressive, Harry, is that you have taken these steps with bravery. Maybe you will be a Gryff, after all. You're willing to say, 'Lord Voldemort' and read about his acts without an issue, but once your parents," he paused, his eyes quickly searched Harry over for any sort of response before continuing. "Are involved, you slip. That seems to be the place to start, once you are ready."

Harry stayed silent for a long moment.

"I apologize," Harry said, looking down at his plate. "We were having a nice dinner and I-"

"We are still having a nice dinner, Harry," Susan interjected. "You have no reason to worry. Daddy is prone to analyze things he needn't analyze, right daddy?"

Allan, surprising Harry, had a twinge of a blush on his cheeks.

"Ah, it seems my daughter carries more wisdom in her 11 years than I in my 31 years. I shouldn't pry, and I am sorry for that," Allan's honest voice reassured Harry that he truly was embarrassed.

"Er, thank you. I just, I'm not used to…"

"An interrogation?" Zelia asked with a soft smile. Harry nodded. "You hold up well against the seasoned Auror."

Harry couldn't help but sheepishly grin. They finished the main course rather quickly, while the adults dominated the conversation for the most part. Harry learned that Zelia worked in the Department of Mastership and Apprenticeship as Assistant Inspector. She was in charge of verifying the process of an Apprentice moving into Mastership, often observing the final exams an Apprentice must go through to achieve Master status, regardless of the subject.

After polishing off Treacle Tart with a heaping scoop of vanilla ice-cream, Amelia poured Allan and Zelia a small amount of bright red liquid in stout glasses.

"What year is this?" Zelia asked after sniffing her drink.

"Father kept a wide variety, but I went with Odgen's 1976," Amelia said, sipping her drink. She closed her eyes and her shoulders came up and relaxed with a deep breath.

Harry did wonder what the drink was, but he wasn't inclined to ask to try. Susan, however…

"Mum, could I have a sip?" Susan asked using her best puppy-dog look.

Zelia rolled her eyes and pulled her wand out from her robes. She flicked it toward Susan's goblet, which then filled to the brim with what looked like foam.

"Harry would you like to try a Butterbeer?" Amelia asked.

"Ah, I guess. Is it strong?" Harry asked. The Dursleys were fond of gin and vodka. Harry did not have pleasant memories on the days that Vernon requested Harry make him mixed drink after mixed drink.

Amelia repeated Zelia's wand motions. Harry found himself with a goblet filled with cold butterbeer. His first sip sent a shiver down his spine. It had a deep flavor of butterscotch, which Harry normally did not enjoy, but this was different. It was almost creamy but went down smoothly. After a few sips, he felt the tiniest bit of a numbness in his butt.

"Wow, I didn't think I'd like that," Harry said, smacking his lips.

"We have a few more surprises for you Harry," Amelia admitted before flicking her wand at the table. Two boxes materialized on the table. One had a charm that caused the bronze and blue paper to shimmer and roll around the box, while the other had seven wizards charmed to race around the different colored tracks of paper. "I realized I didn't give you a proper birthday celebration, all things considered. So, we have these two here, and then another outside."

Harry stared at the gifts with wide eyes.

"Ah, you really didn't have to do this," Harry awkwardly laughed. "I mean, you've been unbelievable generous already. Blimey, you are letting me live here!"

"We wanted to, Harry," Susan said, biting her lip. Harry flashed her a brief smile as his heart thumped in his chest. He didn't know how to respond to their kindness. Besides Hagrid's cake, he had never received a birthday present before. "The broom racing was Mum's charm, it's brilliant isn't it?"

"It's wonderful!" Harry said, not moving.

"Well, lad?" Allan gently prodded. Harry didn't know what to think of Allan. He was both silly and serious. Intelligent and kind, but Harry could feel that the strength behind his voice was similar to the power behind Amelia's. He wondered if he would be this intimidated by every wizard or witch he met.

Harry pulled their gift to him first, and slowly unwrapped the paper from the box. He meticulously made sure not to rip the paper and neatly folded the paper beside the box. He peered in as he opened to find two books and pulled out History of Aurors, Combating Darkness by Eworid Jorgansen, and Quidditch Through the Ages by Kennilworthy Whisp.

Harry opened the first page of the Auror book and read the read through the summary. He felt a lump grow in his throat as he did the same for the Quidditch book. They both fascinated him for vastly different reasons. One was a legacy for his father. The other seemed to be an integral part of Wizarding culture, and he was thankful to have a resource, so he was not totally out of the loop. He looked up to see Allan and Amelia sharing an amused look, while Zelia had a thoughtful expression on her face. Susan, on the other hand, was intently waiting for his reaction.

"I don't know what to say… thank you for these," Harry said, his voice thick with emotion. "Erm, you knew my dad pretty well, then?" His voice was soft as he looked between Allan and Zelia. He figured that since they both worked in the Ministry, they might have crossed paths.

"Better than most," Zelia said, her eyes glossed reminiscing. "I was a year ahead of him, but Allan had the honor of being in his year." She paused and looked at Allan. "Your parents were- are very important to us, Harry."

Harry couldn't help the tear that fell, but quickly swiped it away.

"We went through our Auror training together, but your father had a head start as he interned with the Aurors the summer before the program started," Allan told. Harry didn't know if it was the Butterbeer or hearing about his parents, but his entire body seemed to spin with warmth in his chest. He clung to every word. Then, he imagined his field while still looking at Alan, and imagined Alan sitting across from him in the field as he spoke. "He was a brilliant duelist, but if the war wasn't going on, I'd bet he would have gone pro playing quidditch. I've never seen someone handle a broom and quaffle like that man. Especially when he took over as Captain our fourth year. We never came close to beating them."

"So, you played for Ravenclaw?" Harry asked.

"That I did, as a Beater. We go around making sure our team doesn't get their heads knocked around too much from the Bludgers, and making sure the other team gets the beating, as the name suggests," he gave a chuckle at Harry's confused look. "You'll read about all of that in that book if you're interested."

"Mine next," Amelia said, gesturing to the slightly larger package.

Harry repeated in his meticulous deconstruction of the charmed paper. Inside, he found a fine black, velvet cloak and a pair of black leather gloves. The Potter House Crest, made of bright silver metal, was embroidered on the outer right breast of the cloak and the wrists of the gloves.

"I hope it fits, Madam Malkin had your size recorded but we can shrink or enlarge if necessary," Amelia said, gauging Harry's response. It took his all not to run over and hug her on the spot. "It is tradition for House members to wear these to formal events, but you'll find that the winters at Hogwarts call for the warming and anti-water repelling enchantments."

Harry stood and threw the cloak on over his clothes. He fastened the silver buckle at his neck and pulled the cloak around him snuggly. It was significantly warmer inside the cloak, added with the fur-lined gloves, he was sure to stay warm in the harshest of weather.

"I— thank you, Amelia, it's perfect." He smiled brightly at Amelia who returned it. Then he felt inside the deep pockets on the inside of the cloak and found a key. "Er, what's this?"

"Well, you were very curious about the animals I have here, but you seemed to have forgotten completely about it since we got your books," Amelia said. The group chuckled as he slapped his forehead with his gloved palm. "So, if you will follow me."

Harry removed his gifts and followed Amelia and her family out of the hall. They found their way to the kitchen, of all places.

"You keep your animals in the kitchen?" Harry asked, eliciting a snort from Amelia.

She approached a portrait of a barn near the stoves and touched her wand to the door of the barn. The edge of the portrait slid open like a door, and Amelia snuck in, casting a smirk back at Harry. He immediately followed her down the barely lit, crooked path. After about a minute of walking in silence, they reached the backside of another portrait. She pulled the portrait open to reveal the inside of a very muggle looking barn.

This barn, however, was not stocked with cows or pigs. The left side of the barn was dedicated to a series of pens held strange creatures. One in the corner had the beak of a bird, the body of a horse, and massive wings that were drawn tightly against its body as it slept. The feathers that covered the horse body were a light gray with speckles of black throughout. The gate to the pen had a tag that read 'Hippogriff: Stormwing.'

Next to that stall, a larger pen sat empty. But as they passed, a couple of monkey-looking creatures appeared out of nowhere. They had large, glassy eyes that stared with a strange awareness at Harry. They jumped up into the air and swung on an invisible object and sat up in the air. The main difference between this animal and a monkey is that they had long, silky hair. This tag read 'Demiguise Pack' The next pen had three massive ferret looking animals that were asleep in a tight ball, all laying next to one another. These were Jarveys, according to the sign.

"I see Stormwing is doing well," Allan absently commented. "How did he recover from the flu?"

"My elf that manages the animals said he kept him on a tight diet of ferrets and his potion regimen. It was rather strange for him to not want to go out flying the grounds," Amelia chatted. "I have a couple more Jarveys being rented by some families in need of de-gnomeing. Harvey should have them back by the end of the week."

"What are the Demiguises?" Harry asked, trying to remember from Fantastic Beasts. They continued through the barn to the inside of a tower standing in the corner of the barn.

"They're really rare," answered Susan. "Aunty has the most I've ever seen together at once. How many do you have now?"

"Harvey says we have seven, but I've only seen one or two at a time," Amelia answered as they climbed a staircase to the top of the tower. "Their hair is used to make invisibility cloaks and potions, which are highly regulated by the ministry."

At the top of the tower, three owls sat perched on brass bars. The open windows showed the rolling hills out behind the manor. One of the owls was a simple brown barn owl. Another was a large, proud Eagle Owl that immediately took off through the window as they approached.

"I see he hasn't gotten any calmer over the years," Allan laughed. "He's got to be getting up there, no?"

"Nearly 18 years old," Amelia smiled as she watched the bird fly around the grounds before turning to the last owl. This was one that Harry had never imagined existed. It had snow white feathers with black spots from the middle to the ends. Harry felt a draw towards the owl and reached out a hand to let her smell. "This, Harry, is your owl."

"Really?" Harry asked softly as the owl gently nipped his finger. It reached its head out and allowed Harry to scratch its forehead. "What's its name?"

"She hasn't been named yet," Amelia informed. "What do you think fits?"

Harry paused as she turned her head. "Hedwig."

The morning of September 1st, Harry stood beside Amelia staring at a brick column.

"So, you're telling me to run right at the wall," Harry said flatly.

"Run right at the wall, as if it's not there," Amelia answered.

"You magical people and your nonsense," Harry muttered to himself as he aimed the nose of his trolley at the column.

"You know that includes yourself now, right?" Amelia asked with a chuckle. Harry didn't bother to answer. Instead, he charged at the column and closed his eyes at it neared. He braced for an impact that never came. Peaking open his eyes and slowing to a stop, he couldn't help but gawk at the sight before him.

A sea of witches and wizards attempted to herd their children onto the scarlet red steam engine train sitting on the tracks. The children, however, ran about talking and laughing with their friends, largely ignoring their parents pointing at the large clock hanging on the wall. Harry was by no means a train aficionado, but he knew the behemoth beside him was a glorious work of art.

"Come along, Harry. Five minutes to departure," Amelia said, guiding Harry through the crowd. Similarly, to Diagon Alley, Amelia seemed to have a Moses-like effect on the sea of magical people. "Now, I have corresponded with Madam Pomfrey at Hogwarts. She is the resident Medi-Witch and is aware of your… situation. She shall be testing your magical core every Friday until you are completely restored. She also has graciously agreed to prepare the potion and vitamin regimen for you, which will be served with your breakfast every morning."

"That's kind of her," Harry absentmindedly answered. He glanced at the door to the train beside him and then to Amelia. "Er, didn't you say Zelia and Susan would meet us on the platform?"

She nodded, searching for them over the heads of the majority of students taller than Harry. "You'll just have to meet her on the train along the way, they must be running late." She squared Harry with her and gently held his face in her hands. "You have no idea how proud your parents would be of you, Harry. Truly. You have such promise. Please, do not hesitate to contact me for whatever you need. More quills, questions that you may have, or if you need to vent. I am here for you."

The lump in his throat was forced back down as he threw his arms around Amelia in a tight embrace.

"Thank you for everything, Amelia," Harry whispered into her robes. She put her hand on the back of his head and pulled apart.

"Off you go, lad." She turned Harry toward the train, and he missed the tears brimming in her eyes.

He climbed on the train and turned to pull his luggage on after, but it was intercepted by a blur of red headed twins.

"Here you go, mate," the boy on the left said. The boys each took one end of his trunk and Hedwig's cage and lifted it on board beside him.

"Thank you!" Harry looked to see if they had their trunks as to help them, but they had none.

"Ah we're already settled into our compartment," the other boy said, noting Harry's search.

"Blimey!" The other boy exclaimed, nudging his brother, slyly indicating Harry's forehead.

"You're Harry Potter!" The boy on the right said in awe.

Harry awkwardly nodded, waving at Amelia. She returned with a proud smile, before heading down the platform.

"Dad mentioned you're living with Madam Bones." They climbed on the train and began heading down the hallway of the train. "I'm George…"

"No, I thought I was George," the other brother interrupted.

"Don't confuse the lad," George(?) said.

"Right-o, brother. Alas, he is the famed George. And I, being two minutes older-"

"One and a half," George corrected.

"am Fred of House Weasley!" Fred introduced.

Harry couldn't help the grin sliding on his face. They stopped at a compartment with a boy bearing dreadlocks sitting inside.

"It was a…" George began.

"…Pleasure to meet…"

"…The Hero of the Light…"

"…Defeater of He-Who-Must…"

"…Not-Be-Named, but this is our…"

"…Stop…" Fred finished.

Harry's head bounced back and forth between the twins as they spoke.

"That's quite strange. And disorienting," Harry commented, eliciting chuckles from the twins.

"We are nothing…"

"… But disorienting, Mr. Potter," Fred said. He reached out and shook Harry's hand. George followed in suit.

"We'll see you at Hogwarts!" George said.

Harry left them to their compartment and continued down the train. The loud steam engine blew its horn as the train slowly departed. Students hurried past Harry, exclaiming loudly whenever they saw someone they knew. Some had adorned their Hogwarts robes, but the majority were either dressed in muggle garb or wizarding robes. He kept out of most people's way as he looked into the compartments for a suitably empty compartment.

"S'cuse me, mate," a lean, attractive Scottish boy said, squeezing between Harry and a gaggle of witches. They seemed to stare at the boy as he laid eyes on a dark-skinned witch. "Angelina! How have you been? Hit the pitch at all this summer?"

Harry continued on, not catching the last bit of conversation. Half way down the train, he realized he wouldn't be able to find a completely empty compartment. He settled on one with two students hardly engaged in conversation but looked close to his age. He knocked on the window pane of the door. The witch sitting near the door on his right looked up from her book and waved him in.

"Er, could I join you guys?" Harry asked.

"Of course! First year as well?" The witch asked. Harry nodded, pulling his trunk in and lifting it to the rack above. He set the book bag had had slung over his shoulder on the seat beside the window next to the witch. "Your owl is beautiful!"

At this, Hedwig peak an eye open. Harry opened the door to her cage and let her hop out onto the seat. The witch stuck out a timid hand, which Hedwig sniffed and nudged with her forehead. Taking the initiative, the witch scratched her hand on Hedwig's forehead while the former cooed affectionately.

"Thank you, I got her for my birthday a few weeks ago," Harry mentioned. He turned to the window and opened it enough for Hedwig to notice. She then flew up to Harry's shoulder, nibbled lightly on his ear, and took off out the window. Amelia had said she would likely fly right to Hogwarts.

"I'm Hermione Granger, by the way," She said in a bossy tone. She was about half a head shorter than Harry, but the wildness of her bushy hair made up for the loss. She was tan and rather petite. What she lacked in size, she made up for in her rapid speaking style. In was rather amusing to Harry, listening to her speak as quickly as a submachine gun. Harry couldn't help but notice her front teeth were rather large, but it didn't seem to stop her from aggressively smiling. Her bright brown eyes took in everything around her with excitement.

The boy across from the two hadn't said a word. Rather, he shyly watched their interaction with his soft, baby blue eyes. He had a rounded face and was on the larger side of the scale. His shoulders were hunched over, and his head tucked down. He was well kept, with his hair parted and gelled. He wore traditional wizarding robes, while Hermione wore a muggle jumper and jeans. Harry had chosen to go with a nice pair of dark jeans and a loose collard t-shirt.

"And this is Neville Longbottom," Hermione introduced. Harry had taken his seat after putting Hedwig's cage up in the rack above.

"Pleasure to meet you both," Harry said. "I'm Harry, Harry Potter."

Both kids' jaws dropped.

"I'm guessing you've heard of me, then?" Harry asked, only slightly amused at their response.

"Blimey," Neville said, breaking his unspoken vow of silence. "Of course, we've heard of you mate." He blushed, embarrassed to have called Harry 'mate.' "I mean, everyone read The Adventures of Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived growing up, right?"

"Er, no, actually," Hermione said, perturbed that she hadn't had the pleasure. "I did read about you in The Rise and Fall of The Dark Arts, Modern Magical History, and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century! I only have read them once, so I am likely not to remember everything! Neville, would you have a copy of The Adventures of Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived?"

Neville laughed awkwardly. "I doubt you'll find anyone with it, maybe the library has one. It's meant for children under five, I think. I haven't been read that in years… Gran always liked it as a bedtime story-" The red now flushed his entire face.

"Oh," Hermione said crestfallen. She turned to Harry. "So, what was it like growing up learning from Professor Dumbledore? In Great Wizarding Events it says you grew up training with some of the world's most renowned duelists and trainers! I can't imagine how far behind I'll be. Of course, I've only known about magic for about a year. I just turned eleven when last school year started, so I had to wait a year! But my parents and I have made a few trips to Diagon Alley and I've managed to read a lot but there's just so much to learn!"

Harry waited until she was done, simply nodding along occasionally.

"Oh, that's all hogwash," Harry lightly smirked as she took this in.

"Wait, so you didn't fight a dragon two years ago?" Neville asked, his face scrunched up. "It was all over the Daily Prophet!"

Harry couldn't help but break out laughing.

"When I first learned about dragons, I was more inclined to attempt a magical bond rather than fight one. Madam Bones quickly corrected that, though!" He paused as Hermione was still trying to figure out what she had read was a lie. "Look, I learned about magic about a month ago. I haven't had any special training, I mean… other than what Madam Bones' library and my other books have taught me." He paused, gathering his thoughts. He imagined his field again. This time, there were no flashes of green lightning or Vernon pulling flowers. Off at the edge of what Harry could see, Allan and Zelia were wandering with Susan just behind them. Harry turned and saw Hermione and Neville in his mind, with a small fraction of the train sitting in the field. They were sitting quite like they were in the compartment, only they were not talking to one another. Harry pulled himself out, not having missed Hermione's question.

"So… how much is true?" Her voice had lost its bossy ring and taken on apprehension. "Harry?"

"Sorry, lost in thought. Um. Well, from what I recall… my parents did die fighting Voldemort," Neville gasped and looked out into the hall as if the Dark Lord himself would make an appearance. He muttered an apology before Harry continued. "And I survived some sort of attack that left me the scar. But other than that… Not much of what I've read. I have never given an interview. I have certainly never gotten any special training from our Headmaster. I only just met him a few weeks ago for a brief period of time."

Hermione looked like she was nearing tears.

"I don't mean to burst your bubble, Hermione. Really." Harry said. "It's just, who would want to be friends with the-boy-who-grew-up-with-muggle-relatives? I don't want to be the Boy Who Lived. I would rather have my parents." He mentioned, glancing out the window. He heard a smack, and saw Hermione hit herself in the forehead.

"Oh, my, goodness. I didn't even- I didn't even consider how you would feel about that!" Again, she looked like she was going to cry. Neville's shoulders somehow slumped even more. "I'm so sorry, Harry." Harry immediately believed her. "I shouldn't have just assumed all of that was true! How stupid am I! What nine-year-old would be able to fight a dragon!?"

Harry softly chuckled. "I would like to meet that person, actually," Harry almost slipped into his field, thinking and speaking about his parents. He only managed to stay out my accepting that he would have to talk about this some time. "I don't want you to think that I am anything other than just another student. I guess I've experienced things no one else has. That doesn't mean you need to treat me like I'm a victim or anything. I'm living with Madam Bones now. I am unbelievably lucky and thankful for her and the Minister."

"Why the Minister?" Neville asked softly, definitely feeling the slight tension in the room.

"Well, it's a long story… After I was told I was a wizard by Hagrid, I sort of lost control of my magic. I ended up in St. Mungos because I drained my magical core." Neville gasped, his eyes wide. "I'm guessing that doesn't happen often?"

"Ha, no, to say the least," Neville said. "I've never heard anyone surviving afterwards."

"Boy Who Lived part two…" Harry muttered to himself. This sent Neville and Hermione in a short but deep giggle. "But anyway, to cut my monologue off-"

"Don't worry about that, Harry," Hermione shot him down. "We want to know what you're actually like, not the stories."

Harry was surprised at how upfront she was, but he appreciated that and Neville's nod of approval.

"Well, when I was there… the Minister and Madam Bones showed up and told me that I could pick someone as my guardian…" Harry fell off thinking about the why. But he didn't think he was ready to talk about that just yet. "So, I'm with her for a preliminary year and then I have the option to choose someone else. Seeing how things are going, I wouldn't want to choose anyone else."

"Well, I'm glad you're in a good place with her. So, she knows the Minister pretty well? I've read about him in Modern Magical History. The author doesn't seem to view him positively." Hermione mentioned. Neville snorted.

"That and half the Wizarding world. You should hear my Gran rant about him and the other Department Heads." Neville slightly blushed again, turning to Harry. "That is, besides Madam Bones. She is quite fond of her."

"What's her department?" Hermione asked.

"She's the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," Harry informed. Hermione knew the position but mentioned that she must have been recently hired, as Modern Magical History listed her predecessor as the current head.

"She took on the job in 1981," Neville said. "Before that, she was the Assistant Head of the Auror Division for a couple years during the war." He paused. "They usually don't promote non-division Heads, but Barty Crouch put in a good word. And with the war wrapping up, they wanted someone experienced in catching dark wizards to round up the rest."

After a few minutes of idle chat, the door to their compartment slid open. A trio of boys stood outside, with the clear leader taking a step into the compartment. He was a slender chap, with very pointed features. His chin came to a sharp end and seemed permanently jutted upwards. He already wore his Hogwarts robes, although his did not have any House insignia and his tie was black. He had sharp gray eyes, piercing the three sitting students. His blonde hair was slicked back over his head.

His companions could be aptly described as slightly more evolved apes.

"So, it's true. Harry Potter is starting this year." The boy drawled out. "Longbottom, I see you're not a squib… impressive." He said in a way that it obviously wasn't. Neville hardly looked up from his shoes, but his notorious blush returned in full force. "I'm Draco Malfoy, Heir of House Malfoy." He had walked all the way in and reached out his hand to shake Harry's.

Harry didn't know much about pureblood politics, but knew this greeting was one of respect. Why he didn't introduce himself to Neville in this way was unknown to Harry, but he wasn't about to make an enemy this early. Much to the dismay of Neville, Harry stood and shook his hand. A section of A History of Magic was dedicated to pureblood practices. Harry figured if Draco was recognizing him in this way, he might as well return the respect.

"Nice to meet you, Heir Malfoy. I am Harry Potter, Heir of House Potter. I see you know Neville," Harry said, taking a step back. "This is Hermione Granger." Harry introduced. Draco sneered slightly at Hermione but said nothing.

"I see someone has taught you manners," Draco said, returning his attention to Harry. "If you would care to join us in our compartment, we can show you how real purebloods conduct themselves."

Harry glanced at Neville and Hermione, both looking put out.

"Well, I appreciate the offer, Heir Malfoy," Harry said, deciding to stay formal. "However, unless you have room for my friends, I am inclined to decline your offer." Harry wondered where this confidence in himself came from. It seemed to flow out without thinking. He had dealt with a bully of an uncle and cousin for years, at least Draco had yet to hit him. He felt a surge of magic in his chest that seemed to trickle up his spine. "You are welcome to join us here, but we seem to not have enough seats for your -er- companions."

Draco seemed to consider the invitation.

"I would rather not associate with these types of people," Draco said in his formal voice. "If you were truly taught our ways, you would recognize that my House is not one to disrespect."

Harry had to bite his tongue to stop his immediate response of cussing to come out.

"I meant no disrespect to House Malfoy, Heir Malfoy." He paused. "And as I have offered you a fair counter to your proposal, I consider it a slight to have been accused as such." What the hell was coming out of his mouth? Who was he to demand respect from this boy? His magic pulsed slightly, making his forearm hairs go on end. This did not go unnoticed by anyone, especially Draco. "Now, unless you plan to join us, I imagine you would like to return to your friends' compartment."

"Very well. And of course, I did not mean to imply anything, and I hope House Potter did not take it as a slight." Draco looked confused at the magic behind Harry's voice. "Good day, Heir Potter. Longbottom."

He left without addressing Hermione at all. When the door closed behind him, Harry flopped into his seat. He felt the magic drain back into his chest, and imagined that if he tried to stand, he would visible waddle.

"Well, Heir Potter, I am sorry to have addressed you any differently-" Neville began, back tracking what he thought was a serious faux pas.

"Don't be, Neville," Harry laughed a tired laugh. "I don't really care about any of that. I figured I might as well posture a bit to a bully, rather than let him treat you guys like dirt."

Harry didn't notice Hermione's frown.

"So you aren't really an Heir?" She asked.

"Oh, no. I am… It's just, I didn't think people still, ya know, talked like he did. I only read about that bit of history last night." Harry paused, taking a deep breath. "Honestly, I had not a clue of what I was saying. It felt like I was being compelled to talk like that."

"I felt it," Hermione mentioned softly. "Your magic… I couldn't help but feel a bit intimidated. Still do, actually."

Harry breathed as measured as possible. His Occlumency books said this would help with not only his emotions, but his magic outbursts.

"I'm sorry for that. I didn't mean to scare you at all," Harry admitted. "How do you know 'Heir Malfoy'?" He posed to Neville, knocking his head back and forth, mocking the title. Neville grinned at his antics.

"We've met at various Ministry Christmas Balls, he's always acted like some sort of prince," Neville said, not at all hiding his distain.

"What's a squib?" Hermione asked innocently.

Neville, once again, flushed with red.

"Er, for future reference… squibs aren't often mentioned around purebloods. I don't personally have any problems with them… but it's a fairly rude insult." He stopped. "Actually, it's someone born to a magical family that doesn't have magic. I had a squib great-uncle, but we don't know where is. My Great Grandpa, my Gran's dad, kicked him out of the family."

"That's... that's horrible!" Hermione exclaimed.

"You don't know the half of it," Neville said, true sadness in his voice.

A few hours later, a woman with a cart full of candy knocked on their door. Neville stood and opened, looking at the cart quite fondly.

"Anything off the trolley, dears?" The aging witch asked. Neville helped Harry pick out some of the different types of candies that he enjoyed. Harry got quite the large variety of treats, paid with a hefty tip. "Oh lad, you should be saving your money!" The Trolley Lady exclaimed, but Harry wouldn't take the change. He then set his pile between his spot with Hermione.

"Try anything you want, Hermione. Too much for just me," Harry offered. She looked over the candy and apprehensively took a package of chocolate frogs.

"My parents are dentists, so they don't often let me have candy…" She said, unpacking the frog. As soon as it was opened, it animated and hopped onto the pile of candy. It then tried to hop out the open window, but Harry snagged it from the air.

"Nice catch mate," Neville said with a cherry red licorice wand in his mouth. "Don't worry, they're just enchanted, not actual frogs."

Harry handed the wiggling frog back to Hermione, who bit the head off and savored the chocolate. She looked at the card behind the candy and showed Harry a picture of a wizard who invented the cheering charm, and then put it in her book bag.

"Try and save as many as possible. Some of my uncles nearly have an entire set," Neville said proudly.

Harry decided on trying a cauldron cake, which turned out to have many different types of fillings and cake types. The first was a chocolate cauldron with a strawberry center. Harry violently tore open the second cake after devouring the first, finding a vanilla cake and chocolate cream center.

"You'll throw up if you keep eating like that, Harry," Hermione commented. She had a licorice wand in hand, waving it around like her magical counterpart. Harry chuckled as picked up a chocolate frog.

"I am sure you would be quick with a charm to fix my digestion, no?" Harry asked, peeling open the frog. After munching down the chocolate, he glanced at the card. "Hm, Professor Dumbledore."

The card's description on the back amused Harry.

ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

CURRENTLY HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS

Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the Dark wizardGrindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and ten-pin bowling.

"Does he really like to bowl?" Harry asked, receiving shrugs. The Professor Dumbledore on the card winked and disappeared. He put the card in a pocket on his book bag. While he had it open, he pulled out his book on Aurors and began to read. He could tell Hermione had questions about his book but wouldn't dare interrupt him reading.

A few hours later, the trio had changed into their Hogwarts robes as night came upon them. This is when Neville panicked.

"Oh my god! Gran is going to kill me! Blood-" Neville began.

"Neville, language!" Hermione interrupted, looking aghast at his choice of words.

"I lost Trevor!" He cried out, nearly to tears. "Blimey, I'm going to hear it-"

"Not if we find him!" Harry proclaimed, standing up with Hermione quickly following suit. "Where do you last remember seeing him?"

"Well, I checked him on the platform and then when we changed…" He said, his lip quivering. He nearly pierced his lip with his front teeth, attempting to stop the wiggle. "So, I'd say the lavatory."

"And to the lavatory we go!" Harry said, leading them out of the compartment. They headed down the train to the men's room. Harry and Neville searched it thoroughly, to no avail. "Hm," he said, exiting. "Any ideas, Miss Granger?"

She blushed and thought for a moment.

"Harry, you head up the train and ask around. Neville and I will go to the back. Meet back here once you have asked each compartment." Without another word, she charged off and knocked on the first compartment door. Harry followed orders like a good solider with an honorable mission.

After a few unsuccessful compartments, Harry knocked on one filled with upper-year students.

"Yes?" Asked a ginger wizard. He bore a frightening resemblance to the twins, although he oddly had much more aristocratic features than the twins. He wore a badge next to his Gryffindor Insignia which read 'Prefect Weasley.'

"Um, sorry to bother you," Harry began. He noticed each member of the compartment also had the badge with their title and last name. Two of the older students had a different badge entitled 'Head Boy Jarvis' and 'Head Girl Melbourne' respectively. Head Boy Jarvis was a black-haired, thin, and yet strong jawed Slytherin. His counterpart was a Hufflepuff with sandy-blonde hair and intense blue eyes. "My friend, Neville, lost his toad. I was wondering if you had heard anything about that."

"Don't you think we have better things to do than hunt toads, runt?" Asked a surly, sloth like Slytherin. He gave off a strong stench of body odor that upset Harry's stomach.

"Now, Marcus, that is no way to treat a fellow Hogwarts student," Head Boy Jarvis chided. "What's the toad's name, mate?"

"Trevor," Harry answered.

The Head Boy had his wand out in a flash, turned his wrist with a sharp pull, and put his wand a way. He sat there for a moment, enjoying Harry's bewildered look. Before long, a thump and a female's scream accompanied a floating toad into the compartment.

"Blimey, thank you!" Harry exclaimed.

"Don't get your panties in a bunch. A summoning charm is fourth year material. Not so impressive," Prefect Marcus muttered, receiving an eye roll from Head Boy Jarvis.

Head Girl Melbourne waved her wand over the toad, and it glowed pink.

"He's a little excited, but otherwise unharmed," She informed. Harry thanked them again and hurried out of the compartment.

Harry continued down the hallway until he found Hermione and Neville in the doorway of a compartment, in the heat of an argument.

"…Well, you don't have to be rude if you haven't seen him, for goodness' sakes!" Hermione, flush with anger. Neville inched away from the door, trying his best to imitate a Demiguise.

Harry quietly handed Trevor to Neville, before shaking his head at Neville's profuse thanking.

He put a gentle hand on Hermione's tense shoulder. She sharply turned her head, and Harry felt a surge of anger swell in his chest. She was close to tears again, this time from anger and frustration, that much was clear just from her gaze. Turning his attention to the inhabitants of the compartment, he found a group of boys that had been in a fit of laughter.

"Care to share what was so funny, gentlemen?" Harry asked openly. Of the inhabitants, it was hard to mistake the Weasley flame of hair. This boy had not yet changed his robes, and wore a dirt ridden jumper and faded blue jeans. The boy sitting beside him was a pug looking boy, whose mouth was filled with what looked like jelly beans. Across from the Weasley, a smug looking boy with a jutted chin was trying to stifle his amusement. The only boy not enjoying the interaction was a boy with the start of a promising afro. He awkwardly looked between the window and the interaction, clearly wishing he was anywhere but. "Well?"

"Well, er, I, ah, well!" The Weasley intelligently formulated.

"Yes, quite the joke," Harry dryly commented. "Anyone else wanna give it a go?"

"This uppity bint came in here demanding us give her a toad of all things, can ye believe?" The boy, now obviously Irish, exclaimed through a mouthful of jelly. "Then she berates us for responding like any sane person would."

"That doesn't explain why my friend here seems to have half a mind of hexing you, although your comments certainly encourage me to do so," Harry said, finding his magic swelling once again. Although this time, he felt it flowing down into his hand as well as up to his mouth. Truthfully, he only knew the incantations and theories of some simple jinxes and hexes but had never tried any of them in practice. His magic seemed to be more confident in his abilities than his logical side did.

"And who do you think you are, challenging a Macmillion to a duel?" The self-identified Macmillion scoffed, standing and drawing his wand. "Bet you don't even know what a true hex looks like, otherwise you'd have half a mind to draw your own."

"Well, Mr. Macmillion," Harry said, pulling his prized wand out of his pocket. The ebony and aspen glowed of its own accord in the low light of the compartment. He kept its point at the floor, but his increasing heart rate readied his response. Two jinxes came to the forefront of his mind, as his magic almost begged him to begin casting. "I am Harry Potter, Heir of House Potter. Insult my friend again, and you'll learn what my choice of hex looks like."

Macmillion did not rise to the bait. Instead, he fell back to his seat in the now ridiculous awe that seemed to follow the announcement of his name.

"But it would seem I truly have no qualm with you, if you were to apologize to Hermione and Neville," Harry continued.

"Bloody hell, the twins weren't joking when they said they met you," The Weasley boy stood and stretched out a hand. "Ron Weasley, right nice to meet the Boy Who Lived, innit?"

Harry stored his wand away but did not take Ron's hand. He seemed to notice he was not going to receive a handshake. He coughed awkwardly and turned to Hermione.

"Er, sorry for what we said. We didn't know you were Harry's friend," Ron concluded the weak apology. He was followed with a round of muttered apologies from his mates. Harry would have pressed them further, but Hermione grabbed his forearm, wanting to leave.

"Pleasure to meet you lot, hopefully we will be able to overcome this and become friends," Harry said, his magic realized he was not about to duel, and withdrew from his hand. His speech still had a hint laced within it, to his advantage. "Mr. Macmillion, I do hope you do not take this as an offense to your House. Understand that I was only-"

"Of course, not Harry- ah, Heir Potter," Macmillion interrupted. "I'm also an Heir, but you can call me Ernie."

"And of course, you can call me Harry," Harry replied, earning a surprised grin from Ernie.

"This is Seamus Finnegan," Ron introduced.

"I'm no Heir of nothing, but you can still call me Seamus," Seamus said. Harry couldn't help but laugh, realizing Hermione was still holding onto his forearm. "The quiet lad in the corner is Dean Thomas."

"Nice to meet you Dean," Harry diplomatically said, sensing the relief in Dean's relaxing shoulders. "Well, we're almost at Hogwarts. We best return to our compartment. See you lot there!"

Harry turned without another word and followed Neville down a little way before nearly falling into Hermione beside him.

"Fighting Harry?" Hermione admonished. "They were just being boys! You didn't have to do that for me."

"I couldn't help it," Harry said. He rightened himself, still using Hermione's arm as support as they entered their compartment. "It's like my magic wanted to duel."

"Yes, well," Hermione said flatly. "It was right stupid of you. Just think if you were caught dueling before we even got to Hogwarts!"

"So, you're saying it'd be okay once we get there?" Harry asked with a smirk. Hermione slapped his shoulder but failed to hide her small smile.

"No! Especially over a toad," Hermione continued. "Sorry, Neville."

"No, let him have it. Four on one, didn't even bat an eye," Neville shook his head.

"What are you on about?" Harry asked. "That Dean bloke wasn't about to pull his wand out. That means it was three versus three."

"The only curses I know usually result in my gran casting a cleaning-charm in my mouth," Neville admitted. Harry and Hermione erupted in laughter as Neville bashfully chuckled. "And it's not like Hermione was about to join in."

"Well, I mean…" Hermione said, accepting the critique. "It was still foolish of you, Harry. Brave, but foolish."

"I guess I'm a shoe in for Gryffindor, huh?" Harry asked. Hermione huffed and shook her head.

By the time the train reached a stop, Harry had packed away the remaining candy and his books. Just as he reached up to pull his trunk down, a voice on the overhead announced, "Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be brought up to the castle separately."

He followed the flow of students off the train, Hermione and Neville close behind him. As they got onto the station, surrounded by forrest and darkness, Harry heard an eerily familiar voice call out, "Firs' years! Follow me! Firs' years, this way! Tha's right, come along!"

Harry mechanically followed Neville through the herd of students, flashing of that first night fled into his field. He saw Vernon in a death grip between his magic, lashing around wildly. He barely heard Hermione ask if he was okay over the roar of the wind in his memories. The magic around his field spiraled and the wind that he first recognized as magic roared. In the back of his field, Allan stood in awe looking around at what Harry was remembering. Then, Allan began reminiscing about James, repeating what he had said at Harry's birthday dinner. The wind fell, and Harry returned to his surroundings, standing in front of Hagrid.

"'Arry," Hagrid began, reaching out a hand. Harry reflexively jerked away. Hagrid choked a bit, tearing up at the sight. He coughed and looked around at the handful of first years who noticed the interaction, Neville and Hermione included. The rest were preoccupied with the dark, narrow path leading away from the station. "Er, righ. If yeh'd follow me," he turned away from Harry and charged down the path.

"Harry, look at me," Hermione commanded. Harry glanced her way, barely recognizing the concern deep in her eyes. She squeezed his forearm but didn't press any further.

"Hi, Harry," the soft voice of Susan Bones said from beside the trio. It was obvious that she had been one of the few first years to have been watching Harry. "Sorry I didn't see you on the train. I was so caught up with seeing some of my friends."

"That's okay, I guess I was as well," Harry said, nodding at Neville and Hermione. He shook his head, breathing deeply. "This is Hermione Granger and-"

"Neville Longbottom," Susan answered, leading them down the path. "How's Madam Longbottom these days?"

"Hasn't changed a bit," Neville replied. Then under his breath, commented, "unfortunately."

They continued down the slippery slope. Neville and Susan did the most talking, catching up and talking about their potential houses. Susan began naming some of their classmates and making predictions on which house they would end up joining. She asked Hermione about her own prospects, only to be interrupted by their guide.

Hagrid's booming voice was not as confident as it was at first, but nonetheless echoed against the trees surrounding them, "Yeh will get ter see Hogwarts in a mom'."

The path widened to a view of a massive, dark lake. A looming mountain stood on the far side. Atop the mountain, a castle right out of a fairytale stood guard over the lake. Towers and turrets shot up into the sky. Long, glittering windows contrasted the night sky. Harry stumbled, nearly knocking into Neville as he stared at the castle.

"Four ter a boat," Hagrid instructed. Harry then noticed the row boats floating neatly against the shore. The four hopped into one furthest away from Hagrid, who shouted, "FORWARD!"

Harry felt the boat jerk beneath him as it set off across the lake. As quickly as magic would safely allow, they cut through the choppy water with ease. Neville's shaking was the only thing that threatened to rock the boat. Harry wished he had worn his family cloak, as the wind cut through his robes as if they weren't there. The boats turned elegantly towards the base of the mountain, where the cliff met the lake.

"HEADS DOWN!" Hagrid commanded as they neared an ivy patch. The ivy lifted on its own, showing a secret path underneath the castle. The boats entered, darkness wrapping itself around the boats. Harry couldn't see his own hand in front of him for two straight minutes, until they reached the underground harbor. Hagrid hopped out first and began helping students from their boats.

Harry climbed onto the dock and reached out his hand to help his friends out. Hagrid didn't so much as glance in his direction, leading the first years up a long flight of stairs to a tall set of oak doors. He reached out his large fist and knocked three times, turning to grin at the kids.

The oak doors swung open to reveal the most witch-like witch Harry had yet to see. She wore glittering, emerald-green robes with a matching pointed hat atop her head. Harry immediately did not want to disappoint the stern gaze she let loose upon the eleven-year old students.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid lumbered into the castle.

"Thank you, Hagrid," Professor McGonagall said as he passed by her. She led them inside silently, no student daring to make a sound. The Entrance Hall was massive, nearly twice the size of Bones Manor's. She brought them to another set of doors, Chattering voices behind it hinted at the hundreds of students within. She turned, and everyone came to a dead stop. For a moment, her green eyes scanned the group for any sort of misbehavior.

"Welcome to Hogwarts." Her voice was in a clear, lecturing mode that Harry found both terrifying and engaging. "The Start-of-Term Feast will begin momentarily, however before you may join your peers, you must be sorted. There are four houses at Hogwarts. Whichever house you join will become your family, of sorts. You will have classes with your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend your free time in the common rooms." She paused, daring anyone to make a sound. "The four houses of Hogwarts are named after the Founders: Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw. Each house has its own history and has produced magnificent wizards and witches for thousands of years. As I said, your house is your family, and your behavior will affect your house. Your victories will earn you points, and any malfeasants will lose you points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points will win the House Cup, which you will learn is not something taken lightly." She paused and took a breath. "We certainly hope for your achievements, and for you to honor your house. I will adjourn to make the necessary preparations. Take this time to smarten yourselves up," she made a point to stare directly at Harry's wild head of hair with the smallest hint of a smirk on her lips, before nodding at Ron. He decided it was a good time to rub dirt off his face. "Please wait quietly for my return."

With that, she discretely opened the doors to the hall, and the escaping boom of students' voices came to a not so sudden halt. As they closed behind her, the group began whispering excitedly.

Harry met eyes with Draco, who nodded before returning to his one-sided conversation with one of the apes.

"How do they sort us?" Seamus asked loudly, gaining the attention of the group.

"My brothers said we have to fight a troll!" Ron proudly proclaimed. Hermione rolled her eyes so hard Harry heard them knock around the sockets. "Oh, I bet you know, don't you?"

"If they truly expected us to fight a troll," Draco's drawl chimed in, unwittingly coming to Hermione's defense. "They'd ask you to go in first, that way it could be matched with a level of intelligence it was familiar with."

Ron's jaw clenched and glared at Draco.

"Or maybe they'd-" Ron stopped talking, staring stupidly behind Draco. A host of real-not-so-life ghosts floated in through the wall.

"We can forgive him for eternity, but his behavior as of late has just been cruel. Calling that dear Hufflepuff girl Honky Tonky for seven years, just because- and what do we have here?" A fat, monk-like ghost said, noticing the gaggle of students before him.

"Friar, this must this year's famed first years!" A ghost wearing medieval garb and a wide smile announced.

No one said a word.

"If you are as brave as you all look, you all will certainly join my former house, GRYFFINDOR! He shouted in a silly voice. Awkward and timid laughs set the ghosts off in their own, haunting laugh.

"Move along now," Professor McGonagall's sharp voice cut through. She stood before the group again. The ghosts floated through the opposite wall, some waving merrily, others glaring at their companions. "We are ready for you, please follow me."

She opened the doors with a wave of her wand, revealing the Great Hall. Hermione listed off memorized anecdotes from Hogwarts, A History, but Harry hardly paid her any attention. The hall had thousands of floating candles scattered about over four long tables, filled with staring students. At the end of the hall, another table sat on a raised platform with a score of professors sitting patiently for the sorting. It was such a strange assortment of wizards and witches, but Harry's gaze was directed at the ceiling above. Like Gringott's hall, it was enchanted. This one, however, was enchanted to mimic the sky above it. The night sky's stars shimmered and added their own brightness to the room.

Professor McGonagall led them to the platform, where a small wooden stool stood with a floppy, tattered hat sitting atop it. Harry felt the stares of his peers behind him, but the twinkling eyes of his headmaster caught his attention. In a flash, he remembered his reaction to Hagrid at the station, before turning and forcing himself to stare at the hat.

A thin rip opened near the brim of the hat opened, to Harry's amazement, and began to sing.

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffis are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, if you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folks use any means

To achieve their ends.

So, put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!" *

The hall filled with applause, and Harry joined happily joined in.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool and be sorted!" McGonagall announced. "Abbot, Hannah!"

Hannah, a friend of Susan's, ran on up and sat on the stool. "HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Bones, Susan!" Susan flashed them a grin before taking Hannah's seat on the stool.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" Susan took the hat off and gave Harry a thumbs up before joining Hannah at Hufflepuff's table.

Harry lost himself in thought as RAVENCLAW, RAVENCLAW, GRYFFINDOR, SLYTHERIN, HUFFLEPUFF was called out. Some students took longer than others, and some were immediately picked.

"Granger, Hermione!" Hermione squealed, timidly climbing onto the stool. After a few moments, Harry thought she might not be sorted.

"RAVENCLAW!" The hat shouted, and Harry thudded his hands together in applause. Hermione took the hat off, flashed Harry a smirk, and took off toward the other eagles.

When Neville's name was called, he tripped on his foot, only for Harry to catch him before he fell. "Don't worry, mate, you got this." Neville smiled and nodded. As he crossed the gap, Trevor thought it an opportune time to jump from Neville's pocket. Neville was quick to grab him in the air, returning him to an inner pocket.

Professor McGonagall shook her head disapprovingly, but Neville hopped up on the chair. A heartbeat later, the hat cried out, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Gryffindor table roared like lions as Neville, flush with red, gave Professor McGonagall the hat.

Harry felt himself now alone amongst his fellow first years, thinking about his own sorting. Up until then, he didn't quite know what to make of the different houses. Seeing the various students belonging to the houses, he was even more confused. Draco was formal and traditional, but his offer of 'friendship' had no warmth to it. Hermione was as studious, if not more so, than Harry thought himself, but he was quick to anger and sought a fight when there needn't be one. Ron's family were Gryffindors, but he couldn't place Ron. Susan was as Hufflepuff as the Founder herself, and he thought that admirable. And Neville? What to make of that blushing boy?

He was so caught up, he hadn't heard Professor McGonagall call his name. He did hear the hushed and not so quiet gossip surrounding him and further out in the hall. Figuring it was his turn, he strode as confidently as his shaking knees would allow. Professor McGonagall's small smile reassured him that he was meant to be in this seat, before the edge of the hat covered his eyesight.

" _Ah, Mr. Potter,_ " A voice from within himself said. He was immediately on guard but found his field would not come to him no matter how hard he focused. " _Occlumency at such an age, no use here. No need, either. For I am the sorting hat, did you not hear? You did of course, you hardly miss a beat. A fine mind like yours is hard to seat._ "

 _You don't need to rhyme, I don't have the time._ Harry thought. He received a mangled form of a laughter.

" _Ah, clever boy. I haven't had a laugh since your father put me on. Then again, he was Gryffindor the moment he learned of Godric's adventures. Do you not feel that calling too? Quick to challenge others in combat, without any practice, just to protect the honor of your fair maiden."_ Harry could feel the embarrassment wash over him, but the hat did not seem to mind. _"Brave, yes. That is hard to ignore. But you are always thinking ahead. Perhaps your cunning could be of use amongst the snakes. And no clear anger when I say this, perhaps Godric's house is not for you. Ah yes, Draco's family is the epitome of Salazar's creed. But you have more in that heart than success and prestige, loyalty is a kindle that bravery finds its seed. Is Helga your way? Do you hold that fiery temper, that betrayal often breeds?"_

 _Are you charmed to rhyme? Seriously, I appreciate your skill. But what above else do you see? Have your fill, what in my heart breaks my will?_

" _If only you were so easy to read, young Mr. Potter. And your magic, oh so deep. It calls forth a duty like none have I seen. A duty to truth. A duty that might be your downfall. For the world is amiss with terrible realities. I shall save the rhymes and bear you with this: a stone overturned will release knowledge and power unlike you have ever imagined. Of course, my time is done. Have you any questions, few have this opportunity._ "

 _How were you made? What am I meant to do in life? Does Bertie Bott's Beans seriously contain every flavor known to man?_

" _Ah Ha! I have made the right choice. How I was made was detailed in a book lost to the modern world. But Godric explained it to a number of the ghosts, perhaps you should ask them. The Old Man never would tell me when I asked. No, Bertie does not have every flavor in his beans… do you really think they would put chocolate in? That would be much too convenient. As for what you are meant to do in life? My simple answer is that you are here in this life to learn. You are here to improve yourself, and the world around you as you see fit. Now. Thank you for what is normally an honorable, yet repetitive, duty. We shall see if you have what it takes in…_ "

"RAVENCLAW!"

A/N A bit obvious of where I was headed with Harry, but I hope you enjoyed! If you are wondering about the language/behavior he uses with Draco, this will be explained later on. Of course, leave a comment, tell your friends, treat yo selves, tell your loved ones you love them, and… I'll see you next time!

-AvatarBuddha

*I really enjoyed the first sorting song, but I think I'll change them later on. P. 94 of Harry Potter and The Socerer's Stone.


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